


Don't Think About The Consequences

by selflovelouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (they're not really enemies they just argue a lot), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No One Direction, Angst, Bottom Louis, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Gay Sex, Harry is 28ish, Hate to Love, Louis is 20/21ish, M/M, Making Love, Professor Harry, Slow Burn, Smut, Student Louis, Sub Louis, Top Harry, University Student Louis, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-09-07 03:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 70,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8781703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selflovelouis/pseuds/selflovelouis
Summary: “Can you shut up, for once?” Styles asks, and Louis’ eyes widen in shock. He opens his mouth, and Styles can tell he’s going to start yelling again about something absurd that Styles really doesn’t want to listen to. Professor Styles keeps talking instead, not giving Louis the chance to yell. “How…. how do you go from flirting with me in the middle of class to these annoying outbursts of anger? Can’t you just, can’t you just…” Fuck it.He leans in, and molds his lips against Louis’ open mouth. The wind gets knocked out of him when their lips finally meet, and he can finally feel Louis’ softness against his own lips. His hands reach up to cup Louis’ face, as Louis leans closer to Styles and he finally relaxes into Styles’ embrace. Styles doesn’t deepen the kiss, instead he pulls away and ghosts his lips across Louis’ while he comprehends what he just did fully. Fuck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song "Landfill" by Daughter.
> 
> I was really hesitant about writing this, since professor/student AU's normally aren't very good, but I tried to not make it like the typical ones. I've been working on this for about three to four months, and still haven't finished it entirely. I wanted to post the first chapter to see if people liked it initially. 
> 
> There is quite a bit of boring poetry talk in the first few chapters (I don't find it boring, but if you're not a poetry nerd like me you probably will), but that goes away eventually as Harry and Louis' relationship grows.
> 
> I want to thank Chan, who had to listen to me whine and complain about this for months. She also read all of my drafts and was very supportive. She said it was good, so if it's actually bad then blame her. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy as I've worked rather hard on this. :)

Louis saunters into class on the first day and takes his seat in the front row, right in the middle. He pulls out his laptop, pulling up the syllabus on the professor's  website. As he skims through it again, more students file in slowly and fill up the seats behind him. Chattering ensues, old friends become reconnected and strangers become acquainted. They pick their seats carefully, knowing that it will be their unofficial assigned seat for the entire semester. There are scattered murmurs of travelling adventures or all the Netflix series they managed to watch over break. Louis continues scrolling through the syllabus, trying to guess what the professor would be like. Based on his extensive and detailed syllabus, he’s probably rather old and boring. Or maybe he’s young and enthusiastic. Louis hopes for the latter. 

“Hello, class.” A voice fills the room, and the quiet chatter comes to a steady halt. Louis’ eyes look up from his laptop, to see a very handsome man with his hair slicked back in a sloppy but professional quiff. His cheekbones are chiseled perfectly, and his jawbone sharp. His eyebrows are knitted together, lips pursed in a serious tone. So, he’s young and boring. Although, his outfit is rather eccentric. He’s wearing dark black trousers and button up. His blazer is black as well, but it was what seems to be vibrant bluebirds fluttering about it. It’s stunning and entrancing, Louis can’t help but trace his eyes along the beautiful patter. 

“I’m Professor Styles. I have my doctorate but, I still go by Professor. Literature is my passion, and considering this is a higher level class, I’m guessing you are all interested in it as well. I look forward to hearing all of your viewpoints on the works we will be reading.” Harry gazes across the room, eventually landing right in front of him to Louis. He gives a soft nod, before continuing. “Now, let’s go over the syllabus. This class will be focused more towards post-modern poets. And no slam poetry, if that’s all you think poetry is please drop the class by Friday. If you think I’m kidding, feel free to drop the class as well.” Louis’ lips curve up into a smile, attempting to hide it behind his hand as Styles’ gaze lands on him.  Louis’ not sure, but he swears he sees a subtle smile before the Professor continues on with his speech. Already, Louis can tell he’s quite the hard-ass, but obviously with an accessible soft side. 

“We’ll be touching on poets such as Emily Dickinson, William Wordsworth, and, a personal favorite, Ted Hughes.” Louis can’t help but roll his eyes. Ted Hughes is his favorite? God, now Louis can only assume he’s an absolute prick. 

“Do you have a comment?” It takes a few moments for Louis to realize he’s in fact speaking to him.

“Ted Hughes is an interesting poet to consider your favorite considering he essentially caused Sylvia Plath’s suicide,” Louis comments, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. He wasn’t entirely prepared to have a confrontation with his professor this early in the semester, but it doesn’t faze him too drastically as he’s a rather confrontational person. 

“What’s your name?” Styles inquires, keeping his face solemn.

“Louis, Louis Tomlinson,” Louis answers with a soft smile.

“Well, Louis, one is able to enjoy poetry without agreeing with all of the poets actions,” Styles remarks.

“So, you enjoy reading about a man pompously talking about himself? Whatever floats your boat,” Louis mutters the last part, and Harry’s pursing his lips like he was in the beginning of class.

“If you don’t enjoy what we’ll be discussing, feel free to drop the class,” Styles states, ready to get back to the syllabus. Professor Styles sighs under his breath, not wanting to deal with more difficult students. 

“Oh no, I most definitely look forward to it. Sorry for interrupting,” Louis says politely, coughing lightly and leaning back in his chair and letting the tension from the encounter melt away. 

Harry continues on, and Louis listens insightfully. Maybe he was a bit rude in the beginning, but he enjoys some good banter. The syllabus is long, boring, like every other syllabus. Luckily, Harry isn’t too bad to look at. In between thoughts, he’ll lick his lips or chew on the inside of his cheek. Louis notices some of these little mannerisms, since there’s nothing else that’s interesting going on.

When it’s finally over, Louis lingers after class to pack up his things. He slips his laptop into it’s case, shifting folders aside to make room for it inside his plain black backpack. He looks over his schedule on his phone to see what room he has next when a voice interrupts his train of thought.

“Louis, was it?” Harry asks, taking a few steps forward to be directly in front of Louis. Louis realizes how tall Harry is, maybe it’s because of the black faux suede boots he’s wearing. But even without that heel, he’d still be a good couple of inches taller than Louis. Louis nods, staring back at the man.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but please maintain a certain level of professionalism when speaking out in class. You’re welcome to engage in discussions, but don’t purposely attempt to embarrass me,” Harry states, very serious. God, how can someone so attractive be so dreary? What a waste. 

“Professor, I really doubt anybody besides us knows the personal backgrounds of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath. I apologize for my immaturity, Ted Hughes just…provokes a certain feeling of disgust when mentioned.” Louis carefully watches Professor Styles’ expression, and he can tell he’s trying his best to hold back a laugh. After a few moments of struggling, he lets out a small chuckle.

“He is terrible. I’ve waited for quite some time for someone to vocalize that. God, I hate him….” Harry pauses, clearing his throat and regaining his poise. His soft-side was exposed for only a few seconds, but it’s rather lovely.. “But, we have to try to ignore our bias’.” A serious tone resumes it’s rightful place, and Louis sighs.

“That’s absurd, we should always take into account how their personal life influences their writing!” Louis exclaims. “Sorry,” Louis apologizes for raising his voice.

“That’s for the second half of this course.” Louis lets out a sigh, again, slinging his backpack on his shoulders as he starts heading towards the door. “And I look forward to your opinions,” Harry says softly, and Louis looks at him over the shoulder. Harry’s gaze is downwards, and he coughs into his fist.

“Have a nice day, Professor Styles.” Louis saunters out of the class the same way he walked in. 

\--

Harry is in his office, scrolling through his tumblr feed on his laptop when there’s a knock on his door. Before he can say anything, a petite boy is waltzing into his office.

“You know what else is absurd? That, according to your syllabus, we’ll be reading Emily Dickinson but not Marianna Moore. That is really absurd,” Louis says, and all Styles can do is blink.

“Uh, the syllabus only gives a few examples of who we’ll be studying,” Professor Styles states, glancing down at his laptop. There’s porn on his feed. He clears his throat, exits the browser, and looks back up ar Louis.

“Will we be studying Wilfred Owen?” Louis asks, his voice much less intense than when he first walked in.

“All of his poems are about war, his collections are like extended poems of sadness and guns.” Harry can’t help but roll his eyes, before Louis can say another word Harry interrupts him. “I’m kidding, but I have every right to talk badly about Owen after you spoke poorly about Hughes. Especially since you did it in front of the class. Now, I have work to do. Next time, please email me at least an hour before stopping by my office. I’ll see you next class.” Louis gives a soft nod, and Styles reopens his tumblr, scrolling past an array of sunsets and penises while ignoring the paperwork he should be doing.

\--

Next class, Louis sits in the same place. When Harry walks in, wearing a red, floral printed blazer, black button down, and black dress pants, his eyes fall upon Louis. His chin is quirked to the side, a book perched in his hand as he gazes delicately on the page. Louis’ wearing a pair of black jeans, and a shirt reading ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart.’ It shows off his wonderful collarbones. Today, Professor Styles is wearing a pair of red faux leather ankle boots that match his blazer. 

“Good morning, Professor Styles,” Louis says with a smile, setting down his book. Harry gives a nod, and begins setting up the presentation on the overhead. Louis continues reading his book while people file in again.

“Alright class, today we’ll be going over some important things up on the website. I have lot’s of resources up on it, including proper grammar usage. So, if you repeatedly use incorrect grammar, your grade will suffer. Now, let’s begin with literary devices and literary elements, as well as distinguishing the difference between the two.” Louis can’t help but sigh. This is supposed to be an advanced class, and he’s known this since high school. Now he has to sit here for over an hour listening to information he’s known for years.

Harry’s eyes briefly land on Louis, but he decides not to react to his rude sighing. Instead, he opens up the link.

“I spent a large amount of time creating these and making sure they’re as informational as possible. I expect you all to take advantage of them being here.” Harry’s passive aggressiveness is overwhelming, but Louis keeps his face composed.

Louis pretends to pay attention as Professor Styles dreadfully explains what extended metaphors are. The only somewhat useful information that falls from the Professor's lips is his essay format. Even then, it’s nearly the same as every other format he’s had in the past. Louis is practically half asleep by the time the Professor dismisses the class, five minutes early. Louis wants to say something, complain to the professor about how this is supposed to be an advanced class. Surprisingly, it’s the Professor who says something first.

“Looks like you were dozing off for a bit there, Louis,” Styles comments, closing his laptop. He doesn’t even look at Louis while he speaks. He simply continues on with what he’s doing, carefully putting his laptop into his satchel. 

“You’re acting as if we’ve never even written a complete sentence before. I was looking forward to this being an advanced class, but I’m already disappointed.” Louis speaks honestly, and Harry can’t help but like it. Most students fear him, whether it’s from his closed off demeanor or high qualifications. Nobody seems to want to defy him, except Louis.

“I appreciate your honesty, but I have to get through all of this housekeeping nonsense. That way, whenever someone wants to complain about my harsh grading I can show them all the links I have up on the website to help them. I even show them all in class, so there’s no excuse for mistakes.” Harry finally meets Louis’ eyes, and still sees a hint of annoyance in them.

“You expect perfection then?” Louis’ eyebrows raise, and he crosses his arms loosely.

“As close to perfection as possible,” Styles responds, picking up his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder. Louis slings his backpack over his shoulders with a huff of his breath. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your essays will exceed my expectations. I’ll see you next class.” The Professor dismisses himself before Louis can even respond.

\--

“Today class, we’ll begin analyzing some of Wilfred Owen’s poems.” Professor Styles quickly glances over at Louis, so quickly it may not have even happened. Louis has a pleased smile on his face, and leans forward in his seat. “We’ll read the poems, individually. You can annotate quickly if you’d like, then we’ll have a class discussion about the poem.” Professor picks up a stack of packets, and begins distributing them. He walks up the steps of the auditorium classroom, counting the number of people in the row and handing out the correct number of packets.

Louis immediately starts reading the first poem after handing the packets to the person behind him, since nobody else opted to sit in the front row with him. Professor Styles watches him, noticing the small curve of Louis’ lips as his eyes dart across the page.

 

“Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?

Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,

Drooping tongues from jays that slob their relish,

Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked?

Stroke on stroke of pain,- but what slow panic,

Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?

Ever from their hair and through their hands' palms

Misery swelters. Surely we have perished

Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?

 

-These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.

Memory fingers in their hair of murders,

Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.

Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,

Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.

Always they must see these things and hear them,

Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,

Carnage incomparable, and human squander

Rucked too thick for these men's extrication.

 

Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormented

Back into their brains, because on their sense

Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;

Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh.

-Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,

Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.

-Thus their hands are plucking at each other;

Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;

Snatching after us who smote them, brother,

Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.” (“Mental Cases”, Wilfred Owen)

 

Professor Styles looks around the room, noticing most students are no longer reading the poem. “Would anybody like to make any comments?” He asks, and of course, Louis raises his hand almost immediately. A few seconds later, a girl with long brown hair and freckles covering her nose raises her hand.

“Yes, you,” Styles points to the girl, smiling when Louis puffs out a breath in annoyance. He can feel Louis’ glare burning into his face, but can’t bring himself to care.

“I think the poem is referencing depression. There seems to be a melancholy tone throughout the poem.” Louis scoffs quietly, and Professor Styles looks over at him.

“Would you like to add something?” Styles asks, resting his hand on Louis’ desk.

“Uh, yes, actually. The poem is most definitely referencing PTSD. This can be proven with the first two lines in the second stanza. The poet is talking about all the deaths they’ve seen, obviously during battle, and how the memories are burned into their mind. So, all of the intense emotional tone throughout is a result of their PTSD from being in the military,” Louis explains, rather well. “And, if you know anything about Owen, you’d know that he did serve in the military and used poetry as an outlet for dealing with his mental problems that resulted in that, especially PTSD.”

“Well, Louis, as you know we’re analyzing these poems without referencing the poets past or reason for writing them. Now, does anyone else have something to add on?” Styles asks, and nobody raises their hand, not wanting to follow after Louis. He sighs, walking away from Louis’ desk and pacing in front of the class while speaking. Louis notices Professor Styles’ boots, that are sleek and black with a gold lining. His pants and blazer are both hemmed with the same gold lining. 

“This is a discussion class. Although, the majority of your class participation is simply from taking notes in class and paying attention, it’d be beneficial for all of you to discuss in class. There are no wrong answers when analyzing poetry as long as you can find textual evidence to support it. As Louis graciously demonstrated in his analysis of the poem.” Styles gives a nod to Louis, who is smiling rather widely now. “Now, one last time, would anybody like to share their opinion?” Still, no hands.

“Well, since nobody else wants to contribute to the class discussion, your homework is to analyze the remaining nine poems. I expect them all to be annotated along with a one paragraph analysis each by our next class meeting. Class will be dismissed early, and I advise you to begin working on your assignment. See you next class.” Quiet, annoyed sighs scatter the room. They’re supposed to be silent, but Professor Styles most certainly isn’t deaf. He’s close to saying something, but decides against it. Instead, he returns to the desk in the front of the classroom and packs up his briefcase. When he looks up, Louis is there with the packet in his hand.

“May I stop by your office so you can help me with these poems?” Louis asks, batting his eyelashes and holding the packet against his chest, backpack on his shoulders. 

“Why would you need my help? I’m sure you’ve analyzed these poems dozens of times in your own free time,” He states, trying to sound annoyed but he can’t help but smile a little. 

“I like to have someone to bounce ideas off of, and you’re the perfect candidate. Besides, it’s not like you have anything to do. You just let the class out an hour early,” Louis says with a snooty smile. “Also, thank you for moving Wilfred Owen first, I know the syllabus says otherwise.”

“I simply changed my mind, that’s all,” Professor says, not making eye contact as he picks up his satchel and heads toward the door. Louis is in close pursuit, and remains that way until they reach the Professor's office which is just around the corner.

“Remember when I asked you to email me an hour before stopping by my office?” He asks raising a brow as Louis follows him in.

“Yes, but I believe this should be an exception to that request,” Louis replies, sitting on the chair on one side of the desk, while Professor sits in his own chair across the desk from Louis. Styles doesn’t reply, instead he logs onto his laptop and begins scrolling through his emails.

“I’m really glad you included _Exposure_ within this packet, it’s probably my favorite by him. The imagery and diction alone gives me chills,” Louis says, trying to engage in a conversation.

“So, do you have any questions about the packet? Since that’s why you came here,” Styles asks after clearing his throat, finally looking up at Louis. Louis is inhumanely pretty, and Styles  can’t trust himself to look for too long. Louis’ eyes are furrowed, arms crossed.

“I was hoping to have a discussion,” Louis states, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice but not trying that hard since the Professor can clearly tell he’s annoyed. Styles can already tell Louis’ emotions are unable to be hidden, and displayed easily through his tone and facial expressions. He’s seemingly an open book.

“You already know the answers, Louis. You’re simply wasting your own time and mine,” Styles says, eyes going back to his screen but quickly rising when Louis stands up abruptly.

“Well, Professor, sorry for wasting your time.” He strides out of the office quickly, slamming the door behind him. Louis’ breath is heavy and loud as he storms down the hall, crinkling the packet in his clenched fists. Louis thought Professor Styles was a prick the first time he saw him and he was right. What an asshole, just like Ted Hughes. No wonder he idolizes that twat so much, because he’s a twat himself. Louis continues storming down the hall, crinkling up the packet more and more in his grasp. 

\--

On Thursday, Louis doesn’t even look up from his notebook. The entire class he takes notes, or is writing nonsense, and basically refusing to even acknowledge Professor Styles. Instead of handing his homework to Professor Styles, he leaves it on the desk from his to pick up himself. Not that it upsets Styles, since it most definitely does not. All Louis is, is another student. He doesn’t have time to make all of his students like him. They’re paying for this class and if Louis is going to let one little dispute ruin it for him, it would be a childish move on his part. So, he continues on with his lecture, keeping his gaze away from Louis for the remainder of class. Although, he can’t help but a feel slightly guilty. He’s only used to helping students when they have no idea what they’re doing, not having educated discussions with them. Maybe he was merely taken aback, and that’s why he turned Louis away. Styles tries not to think any more into it, focusing on the lecture instead. 

“Louis, may I please speak with you?” Louis rolls his eyes, and makes eye contact with Professor Styles for the first time this class period. Styles leans on Louis’ desk, sitting on it halfway which forces Louis to look up at him. It makes Louis feel even shorter. 

“You’re being immature, and your outburst in my office on Tuesday was uncalled for. However, I apologize. You weren’t wasting my time. My office is always open to students during office hours, and I look forward to the literary discussions we’ll share in the future,” Professor Styles says softly and as professional as possible. 

“You didn’t have to start off by insulting me, but I appreciate the consideration and I suppose I can accept your apology,” Louis says, forcing a smile and shifting his gaze to the Professors blazer which is white with beautiful sunflowers stitched into it. 

“Thank you, Louis. I’ll see you in class on Tuesday.” He picks up his satchel and sends a nod Louis’ way as Louis begins packing up his own belongings. 


	2. Chapter 2

            “Okay, class. I know it’s only the second week, but I’m assigning an essay. If you had looked at the calendar online, you would already know that,” Professor starts, not even giving a formal introduction when walking into class and setting his satchel down on the desk. He grabs an expo marker, and begins writing down on the board: _1\. Intro._

            “First you must have an introduction, and a thesis. Your thesis can be an umbrella thesis, or a pronged one,” Professor explains, and he begins writing down the other parts of the essay and numbering them as he goes along. Louis sighs, slumping in his chair. He sighs loud enough that Professor Styles’ voice hitches as he contemplates whether he wants to make a scene out of it. He opts not to, and continues with his lecture. He continues writing on the board, but a sudden bang makes his hand slip and mess up what could have been the perfect ‘r.’ Professor turns around to discover the loud noise came from Louis, who slammed his head against the desk as a protest against Professor Styles’ boring lecture. A couple of the student’s chuckle, but stop when Professor Styles sends an icy glare in their direction.

            “Mr. Tomlinson, sit up straight, there is no sleeping in my classroom,” Styles orders, and Louis rises to rest his chin on his hand. Styles is ready to go back to writing on the board, already erasing his mistake when Louis simply has to make a comment.

            “We already went over your essay format last week, why do we have to go over it again?” Louis complains. Professor Styles locks his jaw, taking a few moments to contemplate what he should do.

            He turns around and says, “Get out of my classroom. Your interruptions are unnecessary and rude.” Louis opens his mouth, clearly shocked. “Not another word. Collect your things and leave. You can return to class when you’re ready to behave like an adult, this is college after all.” Louis abruptly stands, not bothering to push his chair back in as he walks out with his backpack held close to his chest.

            Professor Styles turns back to the classroom to see a room full of shocked faces, and smiles softly. Finally, that problem is solved. He really doubts Louis will be rude in his classroom ever again, and neither will anyone else in this class.

            “Now, where were we?” Styles asks, mostly to himself. “Oh, right. Now, onto your thesis statements……”

 

\--

 

            Professor waltzes towards his office, a smug smile on his face. When he gets to his office it’s unlocked, which is strange, since he could have sworn he locked it before going to class. When he walks in, Louis is there. When Louis turns around his eyes are a bit red, maybe he was crying. He’s a spoiled brat, probably not use to people setting him straight. Well, Styles doesn’t exactly know if he’s a spoiled brat or not, but by how he acts he assumes as much.

            “What are you doing in here?” Professor asks, his smile fading as he walks over onto the other side of his desk, and sets his satchel upon it.

            “I have the first draft of my essay and was hoping you could review it,” Louis says, his voice softer than normal. Maybe Styles really did knock some sense into him, only took him a week which isn’t bad at all.

            “The one that I assigned today? It would be impossible for you to already have a complete draft,” Professor Styles remarks, settling down in his chair. Louis hands him a small stack of papers, and Styles takes him. The paper is nice quality, it’s thicker and smoother than normal paper. He decides not to make a comment on it, since complimenting someone else’s paper quality is a bit odd.

            “Will you read it over for me? If you don’t have time, I can email it to you instead,” Louis insists, struggling to keep himself calm and levelheaded. He’s scratching at his jeans, a sound that makes Styles’ ears twitch.

            Professor Styles sighs, grabbing a red pen as he begins reading the essay. It’s well written, no grammatical errors yet. Louis chose two rather contrasting poems of Owen’s to compare, but he pulls it off surprisingly well. Professor Styles keeps looking, searching for something to correct. He circles a couple of comma splices, nothing too major. Finally, he gets to the conclusion.

            “Your conclusion could be stronger. You have strong points throughout the paper, but then the conclusion falls short of that,” Styles says, looking up at Louis who sighs. “You wanted my advice, didn’t you?” Styles asks, annoyance building up in his voice.

            “No, no, it’s not that. I’ve always been terrible at conclusions. I don’t know how to make it any better,” Louis confesses, pouting a bit, and crossing his arms across his chest. How can someone as big of a menace as Louis still be so endearingly intriguing?

            “Well, it’s a good place to reiterate your points and tie your paper together, maybe by introducing your own private thoughts about it while maintaining third person point of view of course,” Styles says thoughtfully, and Louis listens with a soft smile while nodding his head.

            “So, I could add in my personal opinion a little bit?” Louis asks, and Styles nods while handing the paper back to Louis.

            “Other than that, your paper is well written, I circled a couple of grammatical errors,” Styles explains, and Louis’ face drops a little. “What’s wrong? I just told you that your paper is good,” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed.

            “You expect perfection. Good isn’t perfect. It’s-it’s just good! Which isn’t good enough,” Louis sighs, shoving his paper back into his backpack and zipping it up. Styles opens his mouth, about to insist the paper is better than good, but Louis says, “I’ll be back tomorrow with another draft.” With that he stands up, and heads towards the door.

            “Wait! How did you get into my office?” Professor Styles asks. Louis looks back, laughs, and then walks out of the room. Brat.

            Professor Styles rests back, still taken aback from everything. Louis should hate his guts, right? He kicked Louis out of class not even an hour again and then he shows up in his office for writing advice and he seemed oddly optimistic about it as well. Styles rubs over the crushed velvet designs that run up the sides of his pant legs, following the swirls with his fingers as he chews at his bottom lip. He can’t help but think of Louis’ red rimmed eyes, hoping they weren’t tears caused by him. Louis deserved to get kicked out though, this is college and disrespectful behavior is intolerable. Styles leans further back in his chair, melting into the soft cushions and sighing. He rests like that for a few minutes before sitting up straight again, and preparing himself to reply to emails.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles gets into his office on Wednesday at seven a.m, sharp. He’s barely had time to set down his satchel and mug of tea in his hand before a little menace is knocking at his door. It’s Louis with another small stack of papers in his hands, about double the size of the stack from yesterday. Styles looks at him, sighs, then turns his attention back onto his peppermint tea. He settles into his chair and sips out of his mug that’s bright yellow and has _Good morning, sunshine_ written on it in beautiful calligraphy.

            “Well aren’t you a beam of sunshine this morning,” Louis says, smiling, and sitting in the chair across from Professor Styles. Styles takes another sip, waiting for Louis to tell him why he’s here. “I have a new draft of my essay; do you have time to read it?” Louis asks, still smiling, and already setting the paper in front of Professor. He continues to sip at his tea, looking at Louis over the edge of his mug.

            “Louis, it is seven a.m. There is another hour until classes start. Why are you here?” Professor Styles asks when he finally sets his half empty mug down.

            “I could ask you the same question. Why are _you_ here an hour before classes? The entire school is empty other than you,” Louis comments, looking across at the man. His hair is still nicely pushed back, like the first day of school. He’s wearing a deep midnight blue suit with a hint of a shimmer to it if the light hits it right. However, his office is rather dim so Louis barely notices the shimmer. Louis is wearing his signature black skinny jeans, and a graphic t-shirt. Today it’s a _Vans Off the Wall_ shirt.

            “I enjoy to have some quiet time. I enjoy my office, it’s rather cozy,” Professor Styles explains. Louis looks around, noticing the bookshelves filled with a variety of different literary works. It is rather cozy. The walls are a nice maroon and the floors are a warm brown carpet, the carpet looks rather soft too. Maybe Professor Styles takes his boots off and walks around barefoot in his office to feel the carpet in between his toes.

            “It is very cozy,” Louis inquires, turning his gaze back towards Professor Styles, who is reading over Louis’ paper. Louis waits patiently, it’s double the size of his other paper. And, of course, it’s amazing. Styles reads over it, circling insignificant grammatical errors. He gets to the conclusion, and it’s a bit sassy so he can clearly tell it is Louis’ opinion.

            “Your conclusion is much better. Fix the grammatical errors and your paper will be perfect.” He makes sure to say ‘perfect’ or else Louis will end up in his office again by the end of the day. He’s still surprised Louis doesn’t hate him after kicking him out of class, but he decides not to bring it up in case it reignites some anger from Louis.

            “Thank you, I’ll upload it to the dropbox in a bit,” Louis says, smiling. This should be his cue to leave, but he stays in his place.

            “Anything else you have any questions on?” Professor Styles asks, picking up his mug. His tea is cold, and he sighs and sets it back down. Louis shrugs, chewing on his bottom lip while he tries to think of a question to pester Professor Styles with.

            “What university did you graduate from?” Louis asks, keeping eye contact with the man.

            “Here, Oxford,” Styles says.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I really should be getting to work. Make those changes to your essay, and then submit it. The due date is Friday, so your grade should be in by our next class meeting, on Tuesday,” He says, and Louis stands up slowly.

            “Kicking me out again, I see how it is,” Louis teases, picking up his back and walking out the door, not before sending a smile Professor Styles’ way. And Styles was the one worried about bringing up the incident, Louis must forgive easily. What a brat, a spoiled little cheeky brat. He sighs, the ends of his lips curling up a bit as he stares at his mug. _Good morning, sunshine._

 

\--

 

            Louis walks in the next day a minute before class starts, and there are few murmurs of people being surprised that he showed up after being kicked out. Louis doesn’t seem phased by them, although he clearly hears them. He smiles at Professor Styles before taking his seat right in the front, and Styles begins his lecture.

            “As a reminder, your essays need to be in the dropbox by 11:59 pm tomorrow night. I do not accept late work. We went over the format extensively last class, and there is even an example essay of mine on the website. I expect quality work,” Styles starts. Today, his outfit is all black, but his button down has little hearts scattered all about it. He’s also wearing a tan scarf, to match the hearts, that’s wrapped around his neck and tucked in neatly. “If you need help, I’ll need an email by today at three p.m in order to guarantee I will reply in time for you to make the needed corrections.” He pauses to take in a deep breath, and look around the room at all the blank faces. Louis’ face, however, is lively as always. He’s obviously bored with the Professors housekeeping announcements, but pretending to be engaged. At least he’s trying.

            “Alright, now today let’s discuss the common theme of Owen’s poems. Anyone care to start us off?” Styles asks, walking along the length of the room, and smiling when a couple hands pop up. “Yes, you in the back.” He gestures to a blond boy with glasses in the back.

            “It’s obviously very sad. Maybe depression, could that be a theme?” The boy asks, his voice shaking a bit, fearful that Professor Styles will reject his answer. Styles nods, rubbing his chin with his thumb as he thinks about it a bit more. He stops his pacing in front of Louis, and develops his train of thought.

            “It could, it could. Maybe we could expand that a bit more into emotions, instead of singling out one single emotion. Remember, we’re talking about common themes in _all_ of his poems. He’s definitely an expressionist,” he pauses again, “Do we all know what that means? Expressionist?” There are a few head shakes across the room, and the Professor gazes across the class.

            “An expressionist is an artist who expresses their emotions or feelings through their art. Owen does this explicitly.” He talks slow, noticing a few good students jotting down notes. “His poems are filled with emotions.” Louis’ hand shoots up, his fingers dancing in the air. “Yes, Louis?” Styles says, wondering if he’ll regret it.

            “We’re supposed to be analyzing Owen’s poetry, not him as a person. How can we know he’s an expressionist without learning about his experiences? He could just be a random person writing about what he thinks war is like without any experience. There are plenty of poets who write emotional poems without any personal connection to them,” Louis challenges, and he’s smirking. Professor Styles opens his mouth, but no words come out. He coughs a few times while thinking about what he should say.

            “Good point, Louis. I suppose we don’t know entirely whether he’s an expressionist or not. However, based on his poems it is safe to assume he is one. Show of hands if you agree.” The majority of the class raises their hands, everyone except Louis and a few people who weren’t paying attention. “Thank you. Now, let’s get back on track with themes, shall we?” Professor Styles says, smiling to himself as Louis fumes quietly in his chair.

            “Could war be a theme?” Someone pipes up, and Styles nods rather happily.

“Yes, excellent! If you wanted to be more specific, you could say the horrors of war, since most of the images are rather gruesome. Good job.” He pauses, seeing if anyone else will speak. When he looks around the room, everyone avoids eye contact with him so he continues. “Those are the two main themes present in his poems. There are hints of brotherhood with some images of him and other soldiers or even loss of innocence due to his descriptions of the horrific events and how he feels about them. Those themes are a bit more narrow,” Harry says, smiling softly and enjoying class now that he’s actually able to talk about what he enjoys and not stupid essay formats.

He goes on the rest of the class like that, asking the class questions and then going on rants about it. He gets stuck on a thirty-minute rant about the imagery within the poems, which is exquisite, and accidentally runs five minutes over class. He can’t help himself, he gets lost within his own thoughts and words when he begins talking about poetry. When he snaps back into reality, he looks around the class to see everyone fidgeting in their seats. He checks his watch, and chuckles.

“My apologies, class. You’re free to go, make sure you finish your essay!” Professor Styles yells as the students quickly file out the door. Louis takes his time packing up, ready to make small talk with the Professor.

“I really enjoyed class today,” Louis starts, standing up from his chair as Styles unplugs his laptop and tucks it into his satchel.

“So did I,” He replies, rather plainly, but there’s a hint of a smile so that’s something. “You were rather quiet,” He comments, looking up at the smaller boy who shrugs.

“It’s nice to listen sometimes. I’ll see you next week,” Louis replies, half smiling as he walks out the door and into the hall. He takes a right and heads toward the cafe, getting in line right in time before the rush.

“Tea, please,” Louis says, laughing to himself at the rhyme. He grabs the recyclable cup from the man behind the counter, and hands him a couple pounds before heading back down the hall towards the library. He looks down at the reflection of the lights against the shiny tile floors, trying to step on the reflections but his legs are too short to keep up with them. He gives up, deciding it’s best to look where he is going before he runs into some angry frat boy.

“Hi Mrs. Spivey, you look lovely today,” he says to the librarian as he waltzes into the library. She smiles back brightly, waving to the familiar face, and watching as Louis disappears further into the library.

The ceiling is domed shaped, and much taller than necessary. Elaborate paintings of stars and meadows and oceans line the top of the walls, and they’re huge. Louis always fears that one day they’ll fall and crush him. He always feels so small in this sea of books, he only wishes to read them all someday. He continues walking until he finds himself into the poetry room, closing the mahogany door behind him and inhaling deeply to enjoy the smell of literature. It’s sweet and comforting, but also exciting and daring. It’s everything and more. He nuzzles himself into his favorite velvety cushioned chair, picks up the book nearest to him, and begins reading.

“Fucking Ted Hughes,” Louis mutters aloud, and can’t help but think of Professor Styles. He reads the poems though, and they’re familiar. Although, he soon gets bored of all the animal based metaphors and searches for a new book to read. He finds a collection of T’ang poetry, and smiles to himself while hoping the translation is good. He quickly gets lost in the text as the minute’s turn into hours. Soon his course load will be too much that he won’t have much time to sit down and enjoy reading, so he’ll take advantage while he still can. It’s a beautiful thing to dissociate from reality and get lost inside a wonderful poem.

 

\--

 

His eyes eventually get tired from reading, and he checks his clock to see that it’s nearly four and he should get some dinner before his night class starts. He decides on a couple of biscuits from the cafe, and another mug of tea. He nibbles on it by himself in the dining hall that’s rather empty at this odd hour. His mind wanders back to the Ted Hughes poem which makes him think of Professor Styles, and he can’t help but smile to himself. His passion in his lecture today was amazing, even if he did embarrass Louis a little. Louis even considers emailing his professor to let him know, but thinks it would be a bit awkward. Professor Styles probably thinks Louis hates him for kicking him out of class the other day, but he really doesn’t care. Well, that’s wrong. He did cry a bit in the bathroom. He’s normally a well-behaved student, but he likes contradicting Professor Styles’ points. He debates well, and it’s exciting for Louis.

He pushes these literature thoughts out of his head as he throws away his crumbs and recycles his paper mug and begins his journey to his math class which is all the way across campus. Louis will never know why he decided to take the calculus-trigonometry combined class, it’s already hell. He sighs to himself, and mentally prepares himself for the torture that is about to ensue for the next two hours.

 

\--

 

            Louis nearly sprints out of class when it’s over right at seven p.m and begins heading towards to east side of the school, near the teacher parking lot. When he steps outside the sun is gone and a beautiful full moon is in the sky. There are very few cars there, considering it’s past normal hours. Usually, only adjunct professors teach the night hours and have odd scattered hours like this. As he crosses through the parking lot to get to the sidewalk, he spots a very tired Professor Styles.

            “Hi Professor! Why are you here so late?” Louis asks, and Styles’ head snaps up to look at Louis who is about twenty feet away. He veers off his original path to get closer to his student, so they’re not shouting across the parking lot.

            “I stayed late to finish grading the paper. Do you have a night class?” Professor Styles asks, rubbing his nose and adjusting his satchel on his shoulder.

            “Yeah, m’heading back to my dorm now,” Louis says, and Styles hesitates when they pass a car, it’s probably his. It looks to be a black Range Rover, but Louis doesn’t get a good look at it.

            “I’ll walk you to the corner. I saw some sketchy people hanging around here the other day,” Professor Styles says politely, taking a few long steps to catch up with Louis after his pause of contemplation.

            “Thank you, but you really don’t have to,” Louis insists. Professor Styles doesn’t reply, he only looks around with squinted eyes. The heels of his boots clunk against the gravel, and the sound smooths out when they finally get on the sidewalk. The occasional whur of a car passing by fills the silence, and a shiver runs down Louis’ spine. As fall continues on, the nights get colder. Louis really needs to start bringing a jacket.

            “Do you kids not invest in jackets anymore?” Professor Styles asks, a hint of a tease in his voice when they finally reach the corner near the dorms, about five minutes later.

            “I guess not,” Louis says, huffing out and smiling. “Thanks for walking me Professor, I’ll see you next week,” Louis continues, smiling, and waving while scurrying across the street. Professor Styles watches him, making sure he’s safe, until he gets inside. Louis waves to him, and he waves back before turning around and heading back into the darkness. Louis watches him from inside the glass doors until he’s no longer visible, then heads up the stairs to his dorm. _Goodnight, moonlight._


	3. Chapter 3

“Why did you give me a 98%?!” It is much too early for yelling, and Professor Styles just settled into his comfy chair with his tasty raspberry tea. All he wants is peace and quiet while he drinks his tea and daydreams. This is clearly impossible when Louis Tomlinson is his student.

            “Jesus Christ, it is 7:30. Why are you yelling?” Styles complains, rubbing his temples, and sinking into his velvety chair. He closes his eyes, willing with all his might that when he reopens them Louis will be gone. He opens them, and his nightmare is still here.

            “I already told you. You gave me a 98% on a paper you said was perfect! That’s absurd.” He’s still yelling. His face is turning a bit pink and his eyebrows and nose are all scrunched up. Styles is tired.

            “You got the best grade in the class. A 98 is remarkable for your first essay. Now please get out of my office,” Professor styles practically begs, but Louis stays standing where he is. He’s clearly not pleased with Styles’ answer.

            “You said it would be perfect if I fixed the mistakes. I fixed the mistakes which means it was perfect. Perfect is a 100%, not 98%,” Louis states rather harshly, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring across the desk.

            “If you don’t stop pestering me I’ll drop you down to a nine-point eight percent,” Professor Styles spits back, deciding that in this situation it is more than okay to fight fire with fire. Louis turns on his heels, and storms out. Styles considers this a victory, and takes a sip of his berry tea and smiles. Thankfully the tea is still hot, and the warm liquid feels good down his throat. He closes his eyes while he sips carefully out of his mug. Today, it’s a simple white mug with sunflowers etched across it. His ears raise when he hears footsteps, and when he opens his eyes Louis is back in front of him. This time he’s sitting rather calmly in the chair across from Professor’s.

            “Will you ever leave me alone?” Professor Styles asks, ever so slowly setting his mug down on it’s plain black coaster.

            “Did I really get the highest grade in the class?” Louis asks, leaning forward and watching the man. The Professor pulls out his laptop from his bag, ignoring Louis’ question for the time being. That’s when Louis notices the nude colored nail polish painted neatly across that man’s nails. The color makes it nearly impossible to spot from a distance, and Louis only notices because he’s so close. He decides not to make a comment. Deciding he chose that hard to see color for that very reason, he wanted it to be hard to spot. The older man begins typing on his laptop, and Louis notices something else. A cross tattoo on the man’s hand.

            “Yes, you did,” Professor Styles finally says, interrupting Louis’ in depth analysis of the man’s hands. Louis looks up to meet his eyes, and smiles. “Now, please leave so I can have a few hours of peace before I have to deal with your noise during class.”

            “Your wish is my command,” Louis says rather dramatically, smiling as he skips out the door and Styles can’t help but roll his eyes. Why has he been cursed with such a difficult student?

 

\--

 

            “You genuinely believe _Milk & Honey _is the best collection of poems?” Professor Styles asks, astonished, as some little twat tries to argue with him in the middle of class. This time, it’s not Louis. It’s not even Louis’ class.

            “Yes.” One word, but somehow so much attitude is crammed into it.

            “There’s no true imagery. It’s only telling you things, it doesn’t show you anything. The whole point of poetry is to show the reader something beautiful and meaningful through imagery and-and….and in that collection the author only _tells_ you.” He pauses, trying to calm down his heartrate. He squeezes the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. He takes in a slow breath, and starts talking more calmly. “I’m not one who normally tells people their opinion is wrong but,” He starts getting worked up, again. “You’re wrong. Have you even heard of Robert Frost? Naomi Shibab Nye? Sylvia Plath?” Styles forces himself to stop, again. The student looks as if they’re on the brink of tears, immediately regretting challenging the professor with their lack of knowledge on literature.

            “Class dismissed,” Professor Styles says, waving his hands to shoo everyone out of the classroom. As those students exit, Louis enters. Of course.

            “I would even argue Ted Hughes is better than Rupi,” Louis says. He clearly heard Styles’ outburst from the hall, and he looks up to meet the boys eyes.

            “Thank you, Louis. I’m so…” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “These people...they don’t even know what art is. They don’t read Shakespeare anymore, they SparkNote it. It’s driving me to insanity,” Professor Styles confides, sitting on the student desk and sighing. Louis takes a step closer to him, nodding.

            “Following the path of Ophelia, eh?” Styles laughs, Louis noticing how his eyes even light up a little bit. “They don’t even know what _Gilgamesh_ is,” Louis adds on, which only fuels the professors anger.

            “Yes! Yes! The first ever known literary work and they… they… they don’t care. How can you not care about something that can teach you so much.” He rests his head in his hands, sighing loudly and Louis watches the man closely.

            “If only there were more people like you in the world,” Louis teases, and Styles looks up and stares at Louis for a few seconds.

            “Well, you’re like me, aren’t you? We both have a passion for literature,” he says slowly, and Louis nods.

            “Yeah, we do,” Louis says softly. They lock eyes, staring into each other’s for a few moments. Styles has electrifying green eyes that pierce the soul. They’re strong but soft, young but wise. Louis’ heart beat thunders in his ears and Professor Styles only tears his eyes away when the door opens and a few students file in. He hops off his desk, and walks over to the podium to set up the slide show for this class. Louis stays where he is for a few more seconds before walking to his seat.

           

            The lecture today is about the origins of poetry. Professor talks about the many epic poems that were the first few literary works, and goes all the way to the Renaissance period with Shakespeare’s sonnets. Louis catches glimpses of Professor Styles’ hands, now being able to tell they’re painted. He smiles to himself, looking down at his blank notebook. He should be taking notes, but the PowerPoint will be up on the website so he can take notes at home. He doesn’t realize it’s over until the rustling of people packing up and leaving.

            Louis blinks a few times, looking over at Professor Styles who quickly looks away. Louis begins packing up, putting away his non-existent notes and shrugging his bag onto his shoulders. “It was nice chatting with you today,” Styles’ deep voice appears out of nowhere. Louis wouldn’t have suspected it was him unless he knew the man’s voice. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor as Louis looks up at him. Louis smiles, feeling very accomplished.

            “Have a nice day, Professor,” Louis says, walking out with an extra bounce in his step. He even treats himself to a yummy fruit bowl at the cafe before heading off to hide out in the library until his night class.

 

\--

 

            Louis steps out to meet the cold, dark night. He’s become rather familiar with it. He heads off to the teacher parking lot, as per usual, to cut through to the sidewalk. He sees a tall figure walking, and Louis is about to turn around and run until he hears the clomping of boots. Louis smiles, jogging to catch up the Professor Styles.

            “Another late night of grading papers?” Louis asks, and Styles turns around quickly and there is a hint of a smile on his face. They walk past the Range Rover together; this time Styles doesn’t hesitate.

            “I actually lost track of time rereading _The Aeneid,_ ” Professor Styles admits as they step through the strip of grass onto the sidewalk.

            “A lovely classic,” Louis comments, shivering and glancing up at Professor Styles and briefly admiring how lovely his features look in the streetlight. Louis can only make out half of his face, the other half is buried beneath a shadow. The man looks down at Louis, and Louis shifts his gaze to the pavement until they reach the corner.

            “Thank you, Professor,” Louis says, waving as he once again scurries across the street and Styles watches until he’s safely inside. Louis watches the man disappear into the darkness, and inhales deeply before trudging up the stairs.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles walks into the staff lounge and heads straight towards the kettle until someone intercepts him. “Hey, newbie!” A professor Styles refuses to learn the name of.

            “It’s been four years,” Styles replies blandly, trying to maneuver around the older gentlemen but he steps in front of him again. “I just want tea,” he adds on, meeting the man’s gaze.

            “Come on, loosen up!” The man pat’s Styles’ back too hard. “You have tenure, you can loosen up,” He adds on, and Styles internally rolls his eyes.

            “I still care about my job, please, excuse me.” He finally pushes past him, reaching the kettle and pouring the hot water into his mug and making a beeline for the door.

            When he reaches his office, he opens up his bottom desk drawer and looks at the assortment of tea. He finally decides on the ginger tea, and lets it steep in the steaming water as he relaxes into his chair and lets the stressful encounter flow off. He closes his eyes, and exhales softly. He’s almost expecting to hear footsteps and have it be that annoying man again or Louis. It doesn’t come. He opens his eyes, and slowly stands up. He leaves his tea to steep as he walks down the hall, and knocks on a door. “Come in,” A delicate voice calls out.

            Professor Styles steps in to see the familiar woman sitting in the chair. Her wild black hair and petite features. She smiles widely at Styles and raises her arms up. “Hello! What a pleasant surprise! Come in, Come in.” He smiles timidly, sitting in the chair across from the older, yet youthful, woman. She’s the head of the literature department, and the reason he got tenure so quickly.

            “Dr. Morelli-White,” he starts, and she already interjects.

            “Please, you know you can call me Nan, Harry,” she says sweetly, fixing her cardigan.

            “Nan,” He starts again, “Have you ever had Louis Tomlinson as a student?” He questions, chewing on his bottom lip.

            “Yes! He always had amazing input in class and we had the best discussions. Why? Do you have him this year? Oh, you’re so lucky!” She rambles on, running her hands through hair to push it back off her face.

            “Yes, yes. He’s interesting,” Harry says, nodding and looking down at his hands. Why did he even come in here?

            “Why do you ask?” She inquires, smiling sweetly at the man.

            “I don’t know. I was curious. He’s very intelligent,” Harry says, shrugging and picking at his nail polish.

            “Well, he has to be! He’s valedictorian of his class!” She exclaims, giggling excitedly. Harry can’t keep his mouth open, his jaw drops and he blinks a few times. How is Louis the top of his class? How has a professor not failed him with his big mouth? Well, Nan seemed to think he was respectful. Harry closes his mouth after Nan makes a comment about flies or something.

            “I have to get going. I have to give a lecture soon,” He says, standing up slowly. “Thank you for your time.”

            “No, no, anytime! Please, stop by more often.” Harry smiles awkwardly, before stumbling out of the office and retreating to the safety of his own. His tea is ready when he gets back, and he sinks into his chair and takes a long sip of it. It burns his tongue a little bit, but he doesn’t pay much attention to the sting.

 

\--

 

            Louis doesn’t see Professor Styles at all Wednesday. He only sees him in class on Thursday, even then their encounter is brief. Louis pretends to not be upset as he sulks his way into the cafe for a granola bar and banana, then proceeding to the library after his stop.

            “Why the long face, Louis?” Mrs. Spivey asks when Louis walks in. Her tone is still cheerful as ever, he forehead wrinkling as she smiles.

            “Just disappointed. I hope your day is wonderful,” Louis says, before shuffling himself up the stairs in search of an empty study room. He manages to snag a conference room, keeping the long table all to himself. He spreads out all of his math papers and textbook, determined to figure out a formula.

            After an hour without much luck, he has his hands in his head and he feels tears coming on. Professor Styles walks past the open door, looking in the see a tear drop onto Louis’ paper. He hesitates before continuing on his search for a specific scholarly analysis of _The Odyssey._ He thinks about going back, but convinces himself he wouldn’t help that much.

            Louis feels as if he has the weight of the world on him. He has to be the smartest continuously. It’s exhausting and it comes with no breaks. He fists his tears away and blinks until his vision is clear again. He decides to read the chapter for the tenth time, maybe this time it will stick and he’ll be able to do a problem without getting completely lost in the middle. He pauses when he hears the faint sound of boots clunking against the floor, and sighs when it is no longer audible.

 

\--

 

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis chants as he walks through the parking lot, still upset from his math class. He needs to understand it, he has to. He continues his mantra of curses even when Professor Styles appears next to him. He remains quiet. Listening as Louis’ ‘fucks’ turn into ‘shits’ and eventually ‘dammits.’

            “Impeccable diction, well done,” Professor Styles claims teasingly when Louis finally goes silent after two solid minutes. “If you need help in a subject, there are free tutoring sessions offered,” He adds in attempts at being helpful.

            “They don’t offer them for my level of math. Once you get to this level they think you’re ready to be on your own or some shit,” Louis mumbles, kicking a rock and watching it roll into the street.

            “Have you tried talking to your professor?” Styles asks, even though it’s not a very helpful question.

            “Dr. Carroll is a dick,” Louis says. Dr. Carroll…. He recognizes that name, he feels like he knows him. But Styles barely even talks to the people in his department, how would he know someone from the mathematics department?

            They arrive at the corner, and Louis walks across the street without saying goodbye. Styles still watches him to make sure he’s safe, and Louis still watches him disappear into the darkness.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Encounters between the pair continue like this for the next few weeks. Louis will show up in Professor Styles’ office early in the morning, yelling about a grade or an assignment he claims to be ridiculous. They’ll exchange banter in class, or Louis will listen happily when Styles gets hung up on a rant. There are short conversations complaining about people’s lack of knowledge in regards to literary works. It becomes routine that Professor Styles walks Louis to his dorm after his Tuesday/Thursday night class. On that walk Louis will usually complain about math or they’ll listen to the music Styles’ boots against the pavement mixed in with the engines of cars creates. It’s a sound the pair both begin to enjoy.

            Louis also notices how Professor Styles’ nail polish gets picked off throughout the week, until it’s vanished. Monday mornings there is always a fresh, perfectly painted coat. It’s the same nude color every week. Louis thinks Styles catches Louis looking one day, but he plays it off well and asks the man about his hand tattoo. All he does is shrug, and claim to be busy. That’s how most of their encounters end. Styles is always busy. A bad and obvious excuse.

 

\--

 

            “You’re young, how did you end up teaching a literature class so quickly? Don’t adjunct professors normally get stuck with composition classes?” Louis asks rather plainly one night on their routine walk. Styles is a bit taken aback at the sudden, forward question.

            “Uh, I have tenure,” He says quietly, scratching at his eyebrow and looking over at the younger boy.

            “How so soon? My god, did you sleep with your boss?” Louis asks, only sort of teasing.

            “Jesus, no. The other literature professor died, sadly, and they chose me to take over his classes. After my first semester of teaching the classes they granted me tenure,” Styles explains, listening to the faint chatter of Louis’ teeth.

            “Okay, I’ve got another question for you,” Louis continues, and Styles doesn’t even try to hide his sigh of annoyance. “I thought you had such an odd schedule because you were adjunct, but if you have tenure why are you here over the regular hours?” Louis questions, studying the mans face and briefly admiring his cheekbones while awaiting his response.

            “Well, I don’t have anyone to come home to. I don’t feel alone while I’m at school. At least I’m in a public place instead of alone at my house,” Professor Styles admits rather honestly, and Louis nods. He thinks of what he should say, and only one thing comes to mind.

            “You should get a cat,” Louis says boldly, and the older man barks out a laugh. “I’m serious! It would give you a reason to come home and someone to spend time with! Consider it, will you?” Louis pleads, Styles looks into the boys eyes and sighs in defeat.

            “I’ll _consider_ it, okay? Happy now?” Louis nods rather quickly, but their smiles start to fade as they approach the corner. “Thank you for the advice, I’ll see you next week, Louis,” Styles says. Louis turns to face the man, walking backwards and smiling. Styles smiles back, but he sees headlights in a blur approaching. “Louis!” He yells, taking a lunge forward, grabbing the boy whose heel slips off the curb and pulls him into his chest as a deranged driver speeds through the stop sign. There’s some incoherent yelling and Styles can’t even tell whose fault it is. The driver didn’t stop but Louis wasn’t looking but now Louis is in his arms and he’s safe.

            Professor Styles has the boy in his arms, held against his chest. Louis hast his ear pressed against Styles’ chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. Louis grips onto the sides of Styles’ blazer, quite in shock. It takes a minute for Styles’ heart rate to go down, but when the rush of adrenaline is over he quickly lets go of his student after he realizes the positon they’re in is inappropriate.

            “Please, for the love of god, be more careful,” He says, Louis still standing close to him. He takes a step back, nodding. He turns around, starting to head across the street but Styles follows him, guiding him with his hand on his upper back. It sends tingles down Louis’ spine and tingles through Styles’ palm. He walks Louis to the door, even opening it for him so that he’s safely inside.

            Louis lays on his bed, spread out like a starfish as he stares up at the bumpy ceiling. He still feels a tingle but now it’s running up and down his chest, itching to get it. He hates it because he doesn’t know what this means. This is ridiculous, whatever it is. Louis slams a pillow over his face and screams hoping the feeling will escape out of his mouth. It doesn’t, but he eventually manages to sleep it off.

 

\--

 

            Louis walks onto campus on Friday, despite not having any classes, and walks right into Professor Styles’ office at eleven a.m. The man barely looks up from his laptop as Louis sits in the chair across from him. He sets a bakery brown bag on the professor’s keyboard, which forces him to halt his typing.

            “In exchange for saving my life, here is a muffin,” Louis says. Styles finally looks up, his eyebrow quirked. “Actually, three muffins. A red velvet one, green pistachio, and a classic blueberry one. I didn’t know which one you’d like best, so I got you all three,” Louis explains as Styles finally begins opening the noisy bag. The rustles fill the room as he peaks in the examine the muffins.

            “I appreciate this, but you really didn’t have to. I did what any other decent human would have done,” Professor Styles explains, and Louis rolls his eyes.

            “You gave up your chance of getting rid of me, finally. Now every time I argue with you in class you’ll think back to that night and wish you didn’t have such good reflexes,” Louis teases dramatically, and Professor Styles actually laughs, holding his stomach with his hand.

            “You may be surprised to hear this, but I would miss talking to you if you had died,” Styles admits, making Louis smile rather pleased. Styles slightly regrets saying that, now Louis has a smug look on his face and it’s annoying. “So what are you doing here? Do you have any classes today?” Styles questions. Louis shrugs, then shakes his hand.

            “I came to give you the muffins, that’s it. Now, are you going to try one or let them rot? I just picked them up, they’re nice and warm,” Louis instructs, nudging the bag closer to Styles.

            “I think I’ll enjoy them outside. Care to join me for a walk? I’ve been inside all day,” Professor Styles suggests, standing up and already heading towards the door with the bag of muffins in his hand. He knows Louis is following by the sound of footsteps close behind him, and then appearing right next to him.

            They sit on the fountain located in the middle of the main plaza. The grass is wilting slightly, not the usual vibrant green that it is during the spring and summer time. It’s still cut nicely, almost every piece identical. The stone fountain is cold on their bottoms, the frigid water making the atmosphere even colder. Of course, Louis is cold. Styles sighs to himself, pulling off the coat he grabbed as they left and tossing it on Louis’ lap.

            “Your shivering is annoying,” He comments, picking out the pistachio muffin and taking a bite out of the edge. He fishes out the red velvet one after Louis wiggles into the long coat that’s much too big for him. He hands it to Louis, who happily accepts it and begins nibbling the edges.

            “Why do you like Ted Hughes so much?’ Louis questions in between nibbles. The coat smells sweet, like a ripe honeydew mixed with a ripe peach. It smells like the taste of agave nectar. It’s very lovely.

            “Even though his animal metaphors come off rather arrogant if you know anything about him, I quite like them. We see some animals as incredibly powerful and majestic. Makes me think, if he can be a lion or a jaguar, why can’t I?” Their eyes connect for a few moments before Louis starts laughing, and Styles frowns.

            “That sounds so fake deep, god, I love it. That’s beautiful,” Louis says, his laughing winding down and he takes another bite of his muffin.

            “Give me my coat back,” Professor Styles says, frowning with his eyebrows furrowed so intensely that his forehead wrinkles.

            “No! It’s cold and I’m sensitive,” Louis whines, wrapping his arms around himself and pouting.

            “You’re being mean and don’t deserve warmth and-”

            “Hello Professor Styles and Mr. Tomlinson,” A deep voice says, and the two look up to recognize the Dean. Louis stands up, smiling widely and shakes the Dean’s hand instinctively.

            “Nice to see you Dr. Rank, how are you?” Louis asks as Professor Styles stands awkwardly, feeling obligated to. “I was just chatting with Professor Styles about upcoming events on the syllabus.” What a snake.

            “Glad to see you’re preparing ahead. I’ll see you at the quarterly meeting, Professor. And nice chatting with you, Louis.” Louis turns to Professor Styles, rolling his eyes and taking off the coat and throwing it at the man who catches it easily.

            “Nice job making a scene,” Louis teases, and Styles laughs. His heart feels light as his eyes become bright. He enjoys spending time with Louis. His exuberant youthfulness makes Styles feel like his age instead of feeling 50 years old, maturity wise and sometimes his aches make him believe he is 58 instead of 28. He’d never tell Louis this. It’d be inappropriate and weird. They both take bites of their muffins, realizing they’ve been neglected in the midst of their foolish behavior.

            “I really should get back to work. I have essays from my other class to grade,” Professor Styles explains, coat in one hand and muffins in the other. He begins walking back towards the building.

            “I think the reason you like Ted Hughes is really thoughtful and admirable,” A small voice says. When Styles turns around, smiling, Louis is already running across the field in the other direction. Styles can’t see his huge smile, but it’s there.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles walks into the teacher’s lounge for his third mug of tea today, rushing to the kettle and pouring the boiling water.

            “There you are! Haven’t seen you in a while!” The gruesome voice of the gross professor speaks. Styles swears he’s never properly been introduced to the man, but he’s imprinted on him and Styles can’t escape. He looks at the larger man, and realizes something.

            “Dr. Carroll,” He says, looking at the man and blinking. This is the asshole Dr. Carroll that it Louis’ math professor. “Dr. Carroll. I need to speak to you about something. Have you… Have you ever considered having a tutoring session for your advanced classes? There aren’t tutoring resources for them at the school, and think an additional review from you would be beneficial,” Styles explains, upset that he’s forcing himself to engage in a conversation with the rude man who made his first year working hell.

            “They’re smart enough. Besides, if they need help they can come in during office hours,” Dr. Carroll says.

            “Well, no offense, you’re rather unapproachable and students are already apprehensive about talking to professors.” Dr. Carroll remains quiet, not budging. “I’ll give you fifty pounds if you do it,” Styles adds, astonished that he has resulted in bribery.

            “What’s in it for you?” Dr. Carroll asks, suspicious. Other professors have turned their heads, watching the intense conversation happening before them.

            “Further success for students. Will you take the money or not?” Styles asks, and after a few moments the large man finally agrees. “Good. We can work out the details through email.” Styles veers around him and quickly walks out before he can make even more of a scene. He retreats to the safety of his office, closing the door behind him and settling in his chair. He decides not to leave again, but that changes when he has to pee. All of this tea is going straight through him.

He runs into the Dean, again. He shakes his hand, makes more awkward small talk before hurrying into the bathroom to release his bladder. He’s tired, sick of confrontations, and he wants to go home. At least he still has a blueberry muffin to eat.

 

\--

 

“Today, we’ll be talking about Emily Dickinson. She’s a widely known poet, even if you haven’t read any of her work, you most likely know her name,” Professor Styles starts, not formally greeting the class. It’s become a habit of his to launch into the lecture. “She uses a large amount of nature related imagery and metaphors, as many poets due. In my opinion, they’re a bit more sweet and pure in a way. Almost…. Soft,” he says, looking at Louis who does look rather soft in a fluffy gray sweater. His fringe is messy, like he only spent half the time he normally does to style it. It looks…..soft. He looks soft.

“Today we’ll be discussing one of her more popular works, _Hope is the Thing With Feathers_. It’s a very beautiful poem,” Styles says, smiling as he begins passing out copies of the poem before resuming his position in the front.

 

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

 

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.” (Emily Dickinson).

 

            “Now, someone start us off,” Professor Styles says when the majority of the class appears to be done.

            “It’s about a bird,” someone calls out.

            “The bird is a metaphor,” another person calls out.

“The bird is a metaphor for hope,” another says, and then it goes silent. Styles waits, glancing at Louis and hoping he’ll save the class. Louis takes in a breath, opens his mouth to speak, and Styles smiles.

“In the first stanza, it establishes that hope,  or the bird, is a constant. It’s constantly singing.” Styles nods, satisfied with his answer so far. “The second stanza discusses different obstacles that can hurt the bird, or someone’s hope. Finally, the last stanza says that hope is everywhere. There is hope even in the darkest of places. But hope, or the bird, will never ask anything of us. Hope only gives, it doesn’t receive anything in return for existing. Like the bird who sings sweetly no matter what, but doesn’t even get a crumb in return,” Louis explains, looking at Professor Styles. He smiles softly at the end, and Styles smiles back.

“Very well put, Louis. That’s a perfect example of what our in class activity will be. You’ll each be assigned a Dickinson poem and you’ll have to analyze it just like Louis did. The reason we’re doing this is so you can ask each other for help and ask me for help as well. You have the rest of class to finish this analysis. I’ll put the spreadsheet of the overhead of which poem you are each assigned.” Styles makes a few clicks on his laptop and the spreadsheet is on the overhead. Students begin pulling out their laptops and phones to look up their assigned poems.

“I emailed it to you,” Louis says, five minutes later.

“Alright, you’re free to go,” Professor Styles says, but Louis stays seated for a few moments. He thinks of something he could say, an excuse to stay a bit longer. He can’t think of anything, so he collects his things and heads out of the room.

 

\--

 

            “Why did you give me only a 94% on the in-class activity?” Louis questions, waltzing into Professor Styles’ office as if he owns the place.

            “Introductions are nice,” Styles retorts, looking at Louis who disregards his witty comment and continues on with his aggravation.

            “Can you explain to me what was wrong in my analysis’? An analysis can’t be wrong as long as it is proven with in text evidence which I did thoroughly,” Louis adds on, sitting in the familiar chair across from Styles.

            “The analysis’ didn’t feel personable at all, that’s why you didn’t get full credit. A 94 is still exceedingly well, Louis,” Styles explains, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what Louis will say next. He can never satisfy Louis’ questions.

            “If you wanted to tell me how I _feel_ you could have just asked. I _feel_ like your grading is absolutely absurd,” Louis says harshly, crossing his arms and squinting his eyes at the man.

            “You use the word absurd far too often,” Styles inquires, crossing his legs underneath the desk.

            “Illogical, unreasonable, ludicrous, preposterous, ridiculous, irrational, senseless, inconsistent,” Louis begins listing synonyms to further describe Styles grading style as he gets up and begins walking out of the door. He stops before closing the door to say loudly, “Bullshit!” Then he slams the door, and Styles considers failing him. Louis is a twat, but he’s too intriguing to hate.

 

\--

 

            “Have you put any more thought into getting a cat?” Louis asks when they meet up in the parking lot and begin making their walk to Louis’ dorm. All feelings of hate from their earlier encounter completely vanished, nonexistent even.

            “I don’t have time to take care of another living being,” is all Styles says, kicking a rock down the sidewalk, and Louis watches it roll solemnly.

            “So, my math teacher is hosting a study session tomorrow,” Louis comments, both keeping their gazes down.

            “That should be helpful, yeah?” Styles asks, glancing over at Louis.

            “Yeah,” Louis replies. “It makes me sad that you go home and you’re alone.” Louis adds on, looking over at Styles.

            “Let’s not get too personal,” Styles states, holding Louis’ back as he walks him across the street. Chills run down Louis’ spine, starting where Styles’ fingertips touch his clothed back. “Goodnight.” His fingers disappear and now there’s only the ghost of a handprint, the touch still present as Louis drags himself up the stairs.

            It’s a cloudy night. There is no moon or stars, they’re all hidden behind the clouds. The sky is a pitch black void, reminding the everyone how empty the world really can be. How lonely the world really can be. Louis wishes loneliness didn’t exist.


	5. Chapter 5

“Alright, what are your questions?” Is the first thing Dr. Carroll says when walking into the library conference room. “This study session will be geared towards what you’re struggling with.” Louis raises his hand without hesitation, Dr. Carroll jutting his chin out in acknowledgement.

            “I’m struggling with section 2.4, could you do problem’s 3 and 17 on page 112?” Louis asks, looking up through his eyelashes and fluttering them unintentionally. Dr. Carroll uncaps the marker, flips through the book, and then begins writing on the board. Louis has a pencil in hand, more than ready to take notes.

            It’s helpful. Louis asks the most questions, sucking everything he can from this so he doesn’t fail the class. Although failing to him is getting an A minus. He asks for concepts to be explained, formulas to be demonstrated, for specific problems to be worked out. He even managed to ask questions on chapter they hadn’t even covered in class since Louis had already looked ahead.  Eventually, a couple hours pass and Louis has to get to his world literature class and Dr. Carroll has to go teach a class. He has a headache while leaving, but he’s quite content with the progress he’s been able to make. The headache today will lead to many less in the future.

            Louis even ends up running into Professor Styles on the way to class which makes his day even brighter. “So, I went to the math tutoring session and it helped so so much,” Louis starts, not even bothering with a formal introduction as Styles’ eyes finally land on him.

            “I’m glad to hear that. Hopefully your professor will notice an improvement and do them more regularly,” Styles comments, smiling subtly and Louis as his heeled boots clomp against the marble floor.

            “Most of the later chapters build on the concepts we’re learning now, so I think I have a good foundation for the rest of the course,” Louis continues, looking up to meet Styles gaze and fluttering his eyelashes, intentionally this time.

            “You’re an excellent student, I’m sure you’ll exceed in all of your courses. I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” Styles says, veering off down another hallway and Louis watches after him for a few moments before turning his attention back to where he’s going so he doesn’t risk running into someone.

 

\--

 

            “You look rather lovely today, Professor Styles,” Louis compliments, hiding his smirk with a genuine smile. His mind has been drifting back to the tingly feeling he got when Professor Styles held him, now he’s trying to explore what it means and what it is.

            “Uh, thank you,” He says, a bit flustered as his cheeks get a bit pale and he locks his eyes on his laptop screen as he sets it up for class. Louis takes another look at Styles’ outfit.  Black pants and a blazer with gold undertones, that’s the best Louis can describe it. Either way it is absolutely magical. He even has gold boots on to match.

            “Today, we will be watching a brief video of a scholar discussing Ted Hughes’ works instead of you having to listen to me ramble for the entire class period. Take notes, there will be a quiz afterwards to make sure everyone was paying attention,” Professor Styles explains, pulling up the video. He stumbles over his words a bit, still taken aback from Louis’ compliment. It doesn’t mean anything, though. He presses play, and sits down on the end seat of the first row to watch the video along with the students after flicking off the light switch. He’s too tall and his head would get in the way if he sat in front.

            Styles has watched this video multiple times and already knew all of the things the speaker is discussing before ever watching it. There are things he wants to add, of course, but he forces himself to remain in his seat. If he paused the video every time he wanted to add something it would take them the entire day. It finally ends, and there are sighs of relief. Although, they probably preferred that over Professor Styles ranting.

            “Brace yourselves,” Styles warns before flicking on the lights. There are a couple hisses, lots of squinty eyes. Styles chuckles under his breath, gathering a pile of papers from his desk and walking around to begin distributing them. “Don’t look at each others papers or I’ll make a note and you’ll lose credit, no talking, no phones, you can use your notes, no sharing notes….”

            The sound of pages turning fills the room as the students quickly look through their notes, as if it’s a race of who will complete first. A few eyes wander, some a bit too much and Styles makes note of that from his desk in the front. Louis finishes first, flipping the quiz paper over to protect his answers from any on lookers. He then decides to doodle flowers around his notes. He’s quite awful at drawing, and all of the flowers look wilted or dead all together. The sound of pencil lead scratching against paper silences, and Styles collects the finished quizzes and begins explaining their next assignment.

            “Midterms in two weeks, so keep that in consideration when organizing your time with this next assignment. You will be writing an essay comparing two poems, each from a different poet. Compare them based on the literary devices they use to portray a theme, the theme of the poems do not have to be the same although it would make it easier to write the essay. Thorough details on this assignment are posted online. I wanted to bring it to your attention in class, however.” He pauses for a few brief seconds, recollecting his thoughts so he doesn’t drift. “Your midterm will be a test posted online as well. It has a time limit, ten short answer questions. It opens up the Monday of midterm week. More details about that are posted online as well. Any questions?” Silence. “You’re free to go.” The rustling of bags and chatter fills the room and quickly migrates into the hallway, leaving only Louis.

            “With the poems I write about, I’ll compare them in regards to literary devices but can I add a contrasting element in regards to literary elements?” Louis questions, remaining in his seat with Styles stood right in front of him.

            “If you’d like,” Styles says, pushing his hair back as a couple of strands have fallen into his face. He avoids eye contact with Louis, pretending to be suddenly very interested in an already graded essay on the desk.

            “I’ll hand you my first draft tomorrow, thank you,” Louis says, smirking, and having a little extra pep in his step as he heads out of the door. Styles watches, wriggling his nose ever so slightly before neatly placing the stack of papers into his briefcase alone with his laptop and heading back down the hall.

 

\--

 

            Instead of coming back to next day, Louis is in Professor Styles’ office two hours later. Two hours is an unreasonably short amount of time to be able to write an essay. Louis barges in while Styles is pacing the room, book in hand, and trying to analyze a poem from the Renaissance period. Louis sets his essay on top of the book, Styles continues pacing as he reads it. Neither of them say a word, and Styles is very grateful for that. He doesn’t need Louis yelling or, god forbid, _complimenting_ him again. He doesn’t like being flustered in front of his students, but what exactly caused him to be so flustered? He continues reading the essay, wrinkling his nose a bit.

            “I don’t like how you contrasted the two poems. I suggest sticking on comparing them and building up those arguments to create a stronger essay,” Styles says, handing the essay back to Louis and hoping he’ll leave but knows that would be much too easy.

            “You said I could contrast them though,” Louis says, already a hint of annoyance in his voice. Well, much more than a hint.

            “I said that you could if you’d like. You came here for my opinion, there it is. It is poorly executed and unorganized. Either completely change your contrasting arguments or get rid of them,” Styles says, sighing and looking up finally to meet Louis’ eyes.

            Louis starts yelling about something Styles doesn’t care to listen to. He’s waving his hands around and the sound the essay makes annoys Louis. Louis is annoying, extremely annoying. He wants him to stop moving so obnoxiously, why does he have to wave his arms like that? Louis looks like a dying bird.

“Louis, stop,” Styles says, grabbing Louis’ waving forearm firmly and the boys movements hitch and then stop. Styles has a strong grip on Louis’ arm, and there’s a surprised sound coming from Louis.

            “I suppose you’re right. I’ll fix it and give you the new draft tomorrow,” Louis mutters, looking away from Styles who realizes how unreasonably close they are. Their shoulders are nearly touching, so he lets go of Louis’ arm and takes a step back. Louis walks out, and Styles goes back to pacing.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles alarm goes off on his phone, so he gets together his suit case and pulls on his coat before stepping out into the hallway and heading towards the teachers parking lot. The crisp air burns his nose and cheeks a little, almost instantly making his lips chapped as well and licking them only makes it worse. Styles looks around, waiting. He’s never had to wait, Louis’ always here. Maybe class ran a bit late today, so Styles waits for a few minutes. Then he waits for a few more, then it turns into fifteen minutes and he feels rather ridiculous. He walks out to his car, gets it started and continues to wait a bit longer like the fool he is. After he’s spent far too long waiting, he backs out of his parking spot and heads out to where his vacant house awaits him.

 

\--

 

            Louis gets there at seven in the morning, not surprising Styles at all who doesn’t even look up and continues sipping his tea. He reads over Louis’ essay in quiet, like the other day. Hopefully today there will be a calmer ending. Louis took out the contrasting paragraph, which was a smart move. His comparing paragraphs are much stronger.

            “You could add more. The poems also have very similar tones, which can be easily

mistaken for theme, so be careful. You can add that in to make your paper even stronger. Even without that, it’s an outstanding paper. Bring me your final draft if you’d like and I’ll review it for grammatical errors,” Styles says, handing Louis back the essay and finally notices his very puffy eyes and dark circles. “Are you okay?” Styles asks, and Louis closes his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.

            “I was up late studying and working on this essay,” He says softly, rubbing his eyes and sniffling softly. Styles hesitates, struggling to compose or even ask what he wants. He feels childish, dependent, and he doesn’t like it.

            “Hey, uh, where were you last night?” Styles finally asks after a few moments of deciding if he genuinely cares.

            “In the library, I worked on homework in there for a few hours to stay focused,” Louis explains, talking slower than he normally does.

            “Did you get to your dorm okay?” Styles continues to question, and Louis nods, his tired eyes meeting up with Styles’ now slightly worried ones.

            “Yeah, I was fine. No worries,” Louis reassures, twiddling with his thumbs under the desk and pressing his lips together into a half smile. Styles nods, leaning back in his chair and tagging his fingers against the arm rest. Louis notes the nail polish, only chipped off at the tips.

            “Okay, good. Well, get some sleep tonight and bring in your next draft when you’re done,” Styles instructs, but softer than how he does in the classroom with the tiniest hint of compassion in his voice. Louis nods, slowing easing himself out of the chair and heading towards the door. He pauses in front of a book case, scanning over them and picking up the one the looks to have been used the most. It’s worn in and dirty, the cover ripped at the edges. Surprisingly, it’s not Ted Hughes. It’s an anthology of post-modern poets.

            “May I borrow this?” Louis asks, looking over his shoulder and watching as Styles’ eyes snap up to look at him. He stands up, his boots faintly clomping on the carpet as he walks over and grabs it from Louis. He flips through it, pursing his lips together as he decides. Their shoulders are touching this time and Louis holds his breath while watching Professor Styles. His chiseled jaw bone and nice cheek bones and arched eyebrows and…

            “The notes I wrote in this one are too personal. I have another anthology similar if you’d like to borrow that one,” Styles says, keeping hold of the personal one and picking up a less damaged book and handing it to Louis. “Be sure to return it,” Styles adds on, returning to his desk with the anthology tucked underneath his arm. Louis sighs, walking out without another word. He flips through the book on his way to class, glimpsing over some of the poems in it and smiling. He can already tell it’s a good collection. Styles has good taste, as expected, other than liking Ted Hughes.

 

\--

 

            “I have my final draft! I finished it before math but didn’t have time to stop by your office. Can you read it now?” Louis asks, much more bubbly than yesterday. Maybe he did follow Styles’ directions and get plenty of rest. Although he was quiet in class today.

            “It’s pitch black outside. How can I read it if I can’t see it?” Styles scoffs, gripping onto his suit case and rolling his eyes. Louis sighs, annoyed, and looks around.

            “Let’s go into the diner!” Louis insists, pointing across the street to a little diner, their open sign flickering and only a few people inside. The buildings surrounding it seem to be closed, their doors locked and lights off.

            “That would be inappropriate, Louis,” Styles warns, chewing on his bottom lip.

            “It’ll be just for a minute, let’s go!” Louis says, already dashing across the street. Styles dashes after him, not wanting him to nearly get hit again. Then they’re bursting into the diner, heads turning to them as it’s probably the loudest it’s been in there all day.

            “My apologies,” Styles mutters, slumping into the booth Louis already picked out. “Give me your damn paper,” Styles hisses, grabbing it from the boy and pulling a pen out of his pocket as he begins scribbling on it. Most of his comments are nonsense and out of anger. He barely skims over it, and hands it back to Louis in a huff.

            “Don’t get so worked up. I’m sure this is better than sitting home alone, wanking off to Ted Hughes,” Louis teases, tucking the paper back into his backpack with a cheeky smile.

            “Don’t say such obscene things! It’s in-“

            “Inappropriate. I know,” Louis interrupts, rolling his eyes. “All you’re doing is helping me with my paper, not like we’re on a date or anything.” Louis’ face turns a bit pink, and he begins scooting out of the booth and Professor Styles follows as they begin their regular journey to Louis’ dorms. Styles is unspokenly not speaking to Louis, but still walks him across the street to the dorm building.

           

            When Professor Styles eventually gets back to his hollow home, he admits to himself he’d much rather be in that diner with that brat of a student than home alone.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles sits quietly at the quarterly meeting, listening to the department head give reports of progress and announcements that do not affect him in the least. It’s hard for him to open his eyes, as his night last night was restless due to wandering thoughts. He hasn’t had his morning tea yet for a caffeine boost which makes his eyes droop even more.

            “Lastly, our higher level students have shown much progress due to an additional study session that Professor Harry Styles encouraged I do,” Dr. Carroll says. Styles tuned back in at the right time. Some eyes land on him, most people look around confused because they have no idea who he is. “Care to comment?” Dr. Rank, the Dean asks and he’s looking right at Styles.

            He sits up straighter in his seat, clears his throat. “I, uh, I noticed many students complaining about the lack of tutoring available for when you reach a certain level of math. So….so I approached, um, Dr. Carroll and persuaded him to test out an additional study session. I thought it would relieve stress on students and improve grades,” Professor Styles says, voice shaking a bit as now the entire faculty is listening to him and looking at him. He’s content with living in the shadows, which he should have guessed would be hard with his bright sunflower printed blazer he’s wearing. Today is the worst day to wear yellow.

            “Excellent. I think we all can learn something for Professor Styles. Teaching is about the success of our students and we should do everything was can to ensure that. Thank you, Professor,” Dr. Rank says, his loud voice booming through the crowd. Styles nods, lowering himself back into the chair crease and getting comfortable again. Hopefully this time there won’t be any interruptions.

 

\--

 

Styles is very happy to be back in his own chair creases, sinking into the velveting wonderland. Suddenly there are footsteps and then complaining from a little boy. He keeps complaining and Styles is sipping his tea, willing with all of his brain power that this nuisance will leave.

“Can you please stop talking. I have a headache and I’m tired and you being here really isn’t helping that,” Styles snaps. Louis sighs, annoyed, and plops down into the chair across from Styles.

“Were you even listening to me? I was talking to you about the anthology you let me borrow. I loved the poems individually but they all didn’t relate as nicely as I would have liked. Does that make sense?” Louis asks, a hint of a whine in his voice.

“No, no it doesn’t,” Styles states flatly, taking another sip from his tea and breathing the minty scent in through his nose. He manages to escape for a few moments until Louis begins speaking again.

“I simply love when all of the poems flow together. Like how most poets create a collection of their poems based on whether they sound nice together or possibly even share common themes or images. Right?” Louis continues rambling, scooting his chair in closer.

            “I supposed you could say that, yes,” Styles replies, setting his mug down to properly listen now.

            “The best anthologies accomplish that as well. Blending a bunch of poets together and uniting them through their art. It’s…it’s beautiful,” Louis says, locking eyes with Styles and smiles.

            “You’re very intriguing. I enjoy your thought process,” Styles inquires, even though he was doing his best to ignore that brat not even two minutes ago. His eyes are burning and his body aches but Louis’ rambles seem to smooth those troubles over a little. “Do you write poetry?” Styles asks thoughtfully, looking across the table at Louis.

            “It’s not very good, you?” Louis questions, a soft smile resting on his lips.

            “It’s not very good,” Styles repeats, the pair laughing. Styles’ laugh is a deep chuckle meanwhile Louis’ is soft yet raspy. “I’m no Ted Hughes,” Styles adds on, running his hands through his hair and the carefully restyling it after realizing he’s messed it up. Louis watches him, fondly, as he settles down all his misplaced strands of hair.

            “Well you probably are like Ted Hughes, since your writing is shit,” Louis teases, sticking his tongue out and smiling. Styles wants to be mad, but it’s really funny and he can’t help but laugh. Louis lets out the breath he was holding, since he was fully expecting Professor Styles to become infuriated.

            “You know, you’re very funny, Louis,” Styles comments, trying not to make it sound too much like aa compliment and more of a nice comment. Same thing, really, but Styles will pretend it’s different.

            “I know. I’m hilarious, aren’t I?” Louis says, smiling and crossing his arms over his chest and smiling over at Styles.

            “Never mind, arrogance isn’t funny,” Styles says seriously, a hint a tease in his tone of voice and Louis quirks an eyebrow.

            “Alright, well I really should be going. Hope your headache goes away, I’ll try not to cause anymore. Bye, now,” Louis says, smirking over his shoulder while he walks out of the room with a little extra sway to his lips. What the fuck. Was that a flirty smirk? What is he doing? Styles sips his tea aggressively, burning his throat and sending himself into a coughing fit. He hears Louis’ faint laughter outside the door as he begins walking out the door. _Brat._

 

\--

 

            It’s Sunday night, which means Professor Styles is spending his night in. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s hunched over his hand that’s spread out on the counter. He’s ever so carefully dipping the tiny brush into the small jar and spreading the nude liquid across his nails. His current jar is almost empty, he should probably go ahead and get another on. He can’t be bothered now. He takes his time, maybe too much time. Although he’s had lots of practice, it definitely has not made him perfect. His back is starting to hurt, as he’s been leaning over this counter for far too long and has only finished four nails. He wills himself to gently swipe over his pinky nails, the brush spreading over the nail perfectly and covering every bit of it with the nude polish but not getting even a drop on his skin. Styles smiles to himself, pleased, as he sits up and twists his torso a few times and earning a few cracks from his back. Styles groans, rolling his neck as well earning even more cracks and another groan. He hunches back over the counter, beginning on his other hand. He’s just as careful, although his patience is wearing thin. He likes the way his nails look so clean with it on, plus it gives him something to pick at when he’s nervous or bored. Eventually he’s done, and he rests back in his chair with both hands on the counter while the paint dries. He sits there, thinking. His mind drifts to Louis, of course, his most noteworthy student. From his loud outburst to hip swaying, Styles no longer knows what to think of him. Was his hip swaying meant to be flirty? Plus that smirk… Styles shakes his head, scrunching up his face. Louis is a student and their relationship is a professional one. Even if Louis yells at him and smile sweetly and sways his hips.

 

\--

 

            The next week is the same. Louis bursting into Professor Styles’ office to yell about something meaningless and then ending up sitting down and talking about nonsense. One day they talk about places they’ve traveled to and the next day it’s a heated argument over which Shakespeare play is the best. They both settle on Hamlet, but their differing reasons why is what sparks a heated debate. It’s all nonsense, really. Then they get on the topic of whether Ophelia’s death was suicide or accidental, which leads to more contradictions between the two. When their argument leads them to stand up, Styles grabs Louis’ arm and Louis goes soft and it’s all very confusing. Styles’ grip is firm but soft and… comforting. Louis likes it and he really can’t explain why. Then their encounters will end with Louis swaying his hips as he walks out. On their walks to Louis’ dorm, Louis will complain about math or complain about Styles having to be lonely at night. Professor Styles decided it’s much better to listen to him complain then offer any solutions. Louis never listens anyway. Louis looks forward to Styles holding onto his back as they walk across the street. He enjoys the feeling of someone looking after him, caring about him. They part ways, and repeat it all again the next day.


	6. Chapter 6

            Louis walks into the café, adjusting his thin grey scarf as the sun sets behind him. It illuminates the dreary town, turning the dreadful grays into vibrant shades or red, but only for a little while. The golden hour, where the clouds shine and light bounces of windows. It grows darker by the second, and the colors have faded into deep purples by the time Louis has his peach flavored chamomile tea in hand. He looks around, searching for an empty seat to see them all claimed by hipsters. Louis sighs, continuing his scan of the room when his eyes fall upon a familiar face with an empty seat across from him. Louis smiles, bouncing over, but being careful not to spill his scolding tea. It splashes a little and burns his hand.

            “Well what are the odds of running into you here? A coffee shop open mic poetry night…” Louis says, smiling as The green eyed man looks up from the book he’s focusing on.

            “Louis…” he starts, but doesn’t finish. He only looks, his eyebrows still furrowed and book still covering the bottom half of his face. The only thing that has changed is that his eyes are now fixated on Louis.

            “Professor Styles… mind if I sit here?” Louis asks, taking a seat and setting down his mug on the mahogany table. it’s a nice spot, tucked in the corner by the window. It’s quiet back here, away from all the whispering hipsters. If one wants to escape, all they have to do is look out the window.

            “That may be inappropriate…” Styles warns, finally setting his book down.

            “How? You were here, I saw you here, I sat in the last empty chair here which happened to be next to you. Besides, I know you enjoy my company. You even told me so,” Louis retorts, shimmying in his seat to get comfortable.

            “You’re twisting my words,” Styles states, but makes no further effort to get Louis to leave. He sips at his dandelion tea that has cooled down nicely, and continues to read his book.

            “So, you came here to hear the poetry?” Louis asks, and Styles sets his book back down with a sigh. He closes it, knowing he won’t be able to read more than a few sentences at a time with Louis here.

            “I suppose so,” Styles replies, resting his chin in his hand.

            “I bet it’s going to be all angsty slam poetry,” Louis says, smiling and Styles huffs hair out of his nose and rolls his eyes fondly. “You don’t think so?” Louis questions, quirking an eyebrow.

            “No, no. You’re definitely right. God, it’s going to be awful. Why did we come?” Styles asks, laughing lowly and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

            “You probably came here because you were feeling lonely,” Louis says, pausing before continuing. “I was feeling lonely, too,” Louis says, softer and looking up at Professor Styles through his eyelashes.

            “Now you get to pester me, how lovely,” Styles teases, avoiding the intimate subject matter. He’s not about to admit to his student that he came here because he was lonely as well, that would be ridiculous.

            “I bet that fills you with elation,” Louis teases back, hiding his wide smile by taking a long sip of tea. While crossing his legs he bumps his foot against Professor Styles, not admitting to himself that he did it on purpose. He simply takes another sip of tea and sets it back, Styles looking at him calmly from across the table. “You’ve always wanted to be a professor?” Louis questions, trying to spark a conversation.

            “No, actually. I really wanted to share my passion of literature of others and possibly introduce people to the wonders of it as well. I figured being a professor is the best way to do that,” Styles answers thoughtfully, looking into Louis’ eyes that remain on him. They’re stunningly blue, with flecks of green. “I’ve never noticed how beautiful your eyes are,” Styles comments, although he has noticed before, he doesn’t want to risk sounding too creepy. Although he instantly regrets it. Any compliment between a professor and a student instantly comes off as creepy and off setting.

He notices Louis’ cheeks turning pink, however. Louis mumbles a thank you behind his mug, sipping his tea to hide his pink cheeks this time. He feels so stupid and childish. It’s ridiculous, the thought of a professor and student being together. Is that even what he is thinking? The thought never crossed through Louis’ head formerly, and now he’s rather upset with himself. What was his goal when he first set out to become closer to Professor Styles? He simply could not shake the tingly feeling he felt when Styles grabbed him, and he was pressed against his chest.

“It feels stuffy in here, is it stuffy?” Louis asks, pulling at his collar. It’s a turtleneck and he’s suddenly very aware of how it’s gripping his neck.

“You’re been drinking your tea rather quickly, that’s probably contributing to it,” Styles says, sounding so smart as always. Louis nods, he’s right, of course he’s right. “How’s your math class going?” Styles asks, deciding to actually give effort to keep the conversation rolling. It’s not like they’re doing anything wrong by being here together. He simply ran into a student, that’s all.

“It’s going well, thank you. I think Dr. Carroll is planning on a second study session a week before our next test,” Louis says, reaching for his tea but deciding against it since he’s still feeling a bit stuffy. He wiggles off his scarf, slinging it over the backside of the chair.

“It’s cooling down outside, yeah?” Styles comments, glancing over Louis and looking over the facial features that have now become familiar to him. He glances over the scattered freckles across the boys face, drawing out constellations in his mind and smiling subtly. Styles hides his smile by looking down, suddenly becoming infatuated by his mug.

“Finally, I love the cold,” Louis comments, taking a quick sip of his mug, not too much. Styles nods in agreement, taking a sip of his tea as well. “Better if you get to spend it with someone, though,” Louis adds, his voice softer as he flicks his eyes away towards the person standing at the mic and introducing himself. Styles opens his mouth to say something, but opts not to and instead focuses his attention on the performer.

            They start spewing angsty lines about loneliness in a rhythmic and angry tone, pausing far too often for dramatic effect. Sometimes they’ll start yelling, and then get so quiet that Louis and Styles have to lean in to hear. Then they’ll be shouting about how the only thing that holds them is the air, or something like that. By the end, Styles has his head in his hands. Louis’ worried that the teen angst got to him, and is worried he’s crying. There are muffled noises, and Styles body is shaking with his breath. Louis starts to here soft chuckles from Styles, and realizes that he’s laughing.

            “Professor,” Louis hisses, kicking the mans shin from under the table and trying to suppress his own laughter from erupting.

            “It’s so terrible, I’m sorry,” Styles says between hiccup laughs. Their laughs begin to draw attention, despite them both trying to contain it. People are staring, most of them glaring while others are simply confused. “Oh, fuck,” Styles says, putting his hand over his mouth while Louis grabs him by the forearm and drags him out of the coffee shop. “Why’d you do that?” He asks, still laughing as they’re now standing in the cold while people are still glaring from the window.

            “If I didn’t, we would have been kicked out, you idiot!” Louis exclaims, pressing his lips together and hiding his laughter behind quivering lips. His heart is still fluttering from the interaction, as subtle as it was.

            “You kicked my shin and it hurt,” Styles says plainly after a few minutes, a smile still lingering on his face.

            “You deserved it,” Louis says. They eventually find a cozy bench to sit on, watching cars pass by.

            “You’re wearing a jacket, that’s a first,” Styles says as Louis wraps his scarf around his neck, thankful he remembered to grab it while pulling Professor Styles out of the café.

            “If I wasn’t, would you give me yours?” Louis questions, looking over at Styles and blinking a few times. Styles pauses, thinking, before looking at Louis.

            “No, it’s too cold,” He states, and Louis smiles.

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” Louis says softly, looking back towards the road as cars continue to buzz by. He can’t help but notice the flutter in his heart. Maybe the man sitting next to him is feeling the same, he doubt’s it.

            “Now I’ll never be able to go back to that place again. They had excellent tea,” Styles comments, the reality of the situation setting it. He looks over at Louis for sympathy, who merely rolls his eyes at his pathetic attempt.

            “It’s your fault,” Louis states, hiding his smile by pressing his lips together in what’s supposed to be a frown of disapproval.

            “It’s not my fault some people aren’t good poets,” Styles states stubbornly.

            “It’s your fault that you laugh at it,” Louis retorts. Styles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it and admits defeat with a sigh. “There will be other coffee shops, don’t worry,” Louis comforts, noticing the space between them on the bench. He shuffles a bit closer, Professor Styles doesn’t seem to notice.

            “I don’t want to go home but I probably should. I have to feed my cat,” Styles says, putting his hands on his knees to boost himself up.

            “You got a cat?” Louis exclaims, jumping up to his feet and walking alongside the man.

            “No, I was joking,” He replies rather plainly, barely even a smile on his face.

            “You’re terrible at executing a joke well,” Louis comments, and Styles only shrugs as he stops in front of a Range Rover that’s paralleled park perfectly.

            “How’d you get here?” He asks, jingling for his keys in his pockets.

            “I walked,” Louis states, and Styles sighs. He pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, thinking as he unlocks the car.

            “Get in,” He says before he can regret it. Louis looks at him a bit confused as Styles steps into the drivers side. “Get in the car, Louis. I’ll drive you to your dorm,” Styles orders, and Louis skips and hops over. Louis begins messing with the air and the radio the moment Styles turns on the car. All he does is shake his head as he pulls out of his parking spot and starts down the road.

            “The dorms are a mile away, you walked all this way in the cold?” Styles asks, thawing out with the hot air that’s blowing courtesy of Louis.

            “Like you said, they have really good tea. It’s worth it.” Louis pauses, looking over at Styles whose eyes are fixed on the road. “Sadly, you’ve ruined that for me as I can never go back there again.”

            “You said earlier that there will be other coffee shops, don’t be so bitter. Maybe you’ll find one that’s a bit closer to your dorm,” Styles says, a hint of sass to his voice as he passes the spot where Louis nearly got hit by a car and pulls up to the front of the dorms.

            “Their tea will never be as good,” Louis says, getting out of the car and closing his door just like that. Purposely before Styles has the chance to argue back, so now Louis feels as if he has won as he lies on his bed smiling at the eventful night. His heart speeds up a bit thinking about it, and smiling to himself like a moron.

 

\--

 

            “John Berryman. Most of his poems are arguably nonsense. I will be assigning you each a poem where you will write an analysis of it,” Professor Styles says whilst walking in the room, setting his briefcase on the front desk. “Berryman was an alcoholic, and often showed up to interviews and readings drunk. He was an interesting character, but dealt with mental illnesses and eventually tragically killed himself. However, his poetry lives on.”

            “His poems are very hard to understand as they’re sometimes seemingly random. Please refrain from using online sources, especially SparkNotes. It’ll be very easy for me to tell if your analysis is not truly your own, which will result in point deductions.” Styles pauses, looking around the room briefly until his eyes fall on Louis. He refrains from smiling, clearing his throat, and continuing. “Despite the sometimes erratic content, his poetry truly is remarkable. It takes awhile to full appreciate when Berryman was doing with his writing. If you have any questions, email me or stop by my office,” Styles says, a soft smile on his face.

            “Now, I’ll be giving some background on Berryman’s writing style so you all hopefully grow a better understanding. His most well-known collection is _Dream Songs._ Each of these “songs:, or poems, are to be read individually and the reader should not try to find connections between the songs., such as a certain structure or pattern. Many of his poems may have references to his alcoholism, depression, and father who has haunted him in his dreams. His poems also contain Christian allegories, but he teases the faith. The poems within _Dream Songs_ are very private and personal to Berryman, so while conducting your analysis it will be helpful to research his life. However, find the connections between his life with the poem yourself instead of relying on someone else’s analysis and essentially plagiarizing their ideas.” Styles tales a few steps, and stops in front of Louis. “I should also add that we are now entering into the unit in which we are taking the poets personal lives into account. In a couple weeks you’ll have an essay assigned where you will have to write about how the poets life influenced their writing.” Professor Styles glances at Louis, who is smiling rather pleased.

            Professor Styles continues on with the lecture, going more in depth on Berryman’s past. By the time he’s done, everyone is in a rather sad mood. Except Louis of course, who bounds up to Styles up in front, hands gripping the straps of his backpack that is slung over his shoulders.

            “I’m excited for this unit,” Louis says, a grin on his face while Styles packs his things into his bag.

            “Really? I couldn’t tell from the way you were smiling throughout my lecture,” Styles teases, clearing his throat right after and straightening his lips out. God forbid he be unprofessional for more than a few seconds.

            “Well, I also just enjoy hearing you lecture,” Louis says softly, a different tone to his voice that Styles hasn’t heard before, a bit mystical.

            “Yeah?” Styles inquires, looking up and smiling as he locks his eyes with Louis’. Their hearts flutter a bit, and Styles breaks the eye contact quickly and fumbles with the papers in his hands. “I’m glad you enjoy them,” He says, reverting back to his monotone voice.

            “You look really nice today,” Louis says, taking a step closer and Styles practically gawks at him, setting down the jumble of papers. “I’ll see you next class,” Louis says, and winks. He fucking winks. Louis saunters out, and punches the air in little burst when he steps out of the classroom. The excitement is built up in his veins and he has to get it out somehow. What is he doing? It feels so damn good. Louis truly doesn’t know what he’s doing but he can’t deny the flutter in his chest that he feels around him any longer.

            Styles stands in the classroom, lips parted. He looks down at his outfit, he stuck with black trousers and a tight midnight blue button up, no blazer today. He looks back at the door, seeing Louis bounce excitedly down the hall through the small window. He can’t help but smile, and rubs his lips with his hand, trying to wipe the smile away. It doesn’t work.

 

\--

 

            “I really enjoyed hanging out with you the other night,” Louis says, walking closer to Professor Styles than he usually does as they head to his dorm.

            “We weren’t hanging out, we ran into each other,” Styles corrects, suppressing the funny feeling in his chest as he grips onto the strap of his bag. He keeps his eyes fixated on the ground.

            “Well, then I enjoyed running into you the other night,” Louis says, smiling cheekily only for Styles to continue looking at the ground. He frowns. “I’m sorry if me complimenting you was a bit unprofessional, I know how you are about that stuff.” Styles sighs, turning his head to look at Louis and noticing the frown.

            “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong…” Besides wink at me. Harry’s eyes fall on Louis’ lips, that are soft and pink. He’d expect them to be chapped from the cold weather, but they’re so soft… he pulls his eyes away from them quickly only to see Louis looking at him with a content smile.

            When they cross the street, Styles opts not to put his hand on Louis’ back to guide him, and Louis refuses to admit to himself the disappointment.

 

\--

 

            “You changed the rubric to our next essay,” is the first thing Louis says while walking into Professor Styles’ office.

            “I changed it an hour ago, and I haven’t even assigned the essay,” Styles says, bewildered.

            “Now we have to write an essay analyzing the poem without the authors background and one with the authors background? I thought we moved onto the next unit,” Louis says, so frustrated he doesn’t even take a seat.

            “Louis, stop.” Louis keeps talking in a frustrated tone. “Stop, Louis,” Styles says, calmly. Louis keeps rambling. “Oh my god, Louis stop! Stop everything! I don’t care if you like my assignments or not. Drop the damn class if you’re not happy with them. You can’t walk all over me and then compliment me to make it all better. I’m your professor,” Styles says, standing up from his desk and raising his voice. Louis pauses, face going pale as he holds his books in hand arms against his chest.

            “This is way fucking worse than being kicked out of class,” Louis says, turning around and of course adding in a complimentary door slam.

            Styles is filled with instant regret the moment Louis steps out of the classroom, but he can’t do this. He can’t have his teaching style be criticized by the same person who kisses his ass and flirts with him. It’s not flirting, no, no. Styles rests his head in his hands on his desk, sinking into his chair and sighing. Professional people don’t yell at students, professional people don’t let students flirt with them.

            Styles stands up, abruptly deciding to go to the library before his next class. Maybe a nice collection of poems will ease his mind. He smiles at Mrs. Spivey at the library counter, walking to the back and entering the magical room with red carpet and mahogany book shelves. There’s the soft sound of crying before he steps in, hesitantly, he opens it to see Louis on a couch, seemingly crying with his head hidden in his hands. Styles almost immediately closes it, taking in a sharp breath. His feet are willing him to walk out of the library as quickly as possible but his heart leads him the other way until he’s sat on the same couch as Louis.

            “Fuck off,” is the first thing Louis mumbles, Styles isn’t surprised. With shaky hands, Styles rests a hand on Louis’ knee. he feels the muscles tense up, and then relax. “You’re such a dick,” is the second thing Louis mumbles.

            “I am a dick,” Styles agrees. Louis looks up, red eyes and tear stained cheeks. Styles’ instinct is to pull him into his arms, so he does, filling the hollow dip of his waist with his hands. It feels right, like they fit. He even kisses Louis’ temple, he probably shouldn’t have, but he just made the boy cry.

            “You can’t just yell at me and then kiss me and make it all better, I’m your student,” Louis says sassily. “I’m mocking you,” He mumbles into styles shoulder. Styles laughs, shaking both of them.

            “You’re funny,” Styles says softly, pulling away and for a few seconds their noses touch and their lips are right there and everything aligns until Styles jolts his head back, heart racing like he’s running away from a hungry bear. “Do you hate me?” he asks, trying to move away from it.

            “A little bit,” Louis says. “I should go,” Louis says, and sniffles all the way out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

            “Isn’t it a bit unnecessary to write two essays about the same poem?” Louis questions bitterly, arms crossed in front of his chest as a few students shift uncomfortably in their seat. They have every right to be uncomfortable, as Louis has been challenging Professor Styles the past couple weeks. What the other students don’t know, however, is that Styles made Louis cry and he’s still trying to make it up to him. Louis is not making it easy on Styles, challenging him rather bitterly only to give him a sweet smile or wink as he leaves the class. The students are simply waiting for Louis to not only get kicked out of the class for the day, but permanently. 

            “One essay will be just an analysis of the poem while the other will include research on the poet,” Professor Styles replies, calmly, even though he knows that Louis has already heard this information before. Louis rolls his eyes, sighs, and slumps down in his chair. Styles continues his explanation of the assignment, mind buzzing.

            He thought they were okay. Yes, he made Louis cry but he thought he patched it over. Now he seemingly has a constant blistering headache whenever louis is around. He makes his mind toss and turn and he never knows what mood he is going to be with him.

 

After class, Louis comes up to Styles, a sweet smile on his face. Hopefully, he doesn’t start yelling. “I read a well thought-out, modern analysis of _The Odyssey._ I think you would like it. It’s a bit quirky, like you,” Louis says, his voice like a strawberry short cake…his lips looking like a strawberry that he wants just bite into-

            “That does sound interesting,” Professor Styles says, blinking a few times and looking at Louis with soft eyes. “Are you doing okay? You’ve seemed a bit tense in class,” Styles says, already preparing himself for the backlash. Louis simply nods, grabbing the bottom edge of Professor Styles’ blazers and twiddling the fabric between his fingers as if he’s examining it.

            “Mhmm,” He mumbles, licking his lips before letting the fabric slip through his fingers. “Just a bit of banter, yeah?” Bloody stressful banter. And Louis walks out of the class, leaving Professor Styles on yet another confusing cliffhanger as he dwells in regret on getting so invested with this confusing boy.

 

\--

 

Louis is in Professor Styles’ office. And he’s yelling. Again. And Styles has a blistering headache. Eventually, he opts to just start lightly banging his head against his desk until there is silence. He’s scared to look up, but when he does there’s no sign of the small boy, and he sighs of relief. He really does not know why he was yelling this time, maybe it was about the syllabus? Maybe, who knows.

 

The walk to Louis’ dorm is worse. Styles didn’t think it could worse. “All I’m saying is that dedicating a whole week to Ted Hughes and barely even mentioning Sylvia Plath is idiotic. When are we talking about Sylvia?” And then proceeds a full rant on why Sylvia Plath is better than Ted Hughes and there isn’t silence until the door to the dorms is closed and Professor Styles is alone outside. He takes a deep breath, forces his heavy eyelids to stay open, and heads back to the lot.

 

\--

 

Once again Styles doesn’t think it could get worse, and he’s proven wrong once again.

Professor Styles has a blistering headache, again, he tries rubbing his temples but it’s practically splitting his skull open. To add to his stress, a small pixie bursts into his office. He’s yelling about something, but Styles really doesn’t have time to deal with this right now.

            “You can’t barge into my office anymore, Louis. It’s very unprofessional,” He states plainly as Louis stomps into his office, swinging the door open. It closes behind him. Louis’ eyebrows are furrowed as he approaches Styles’ desk. Louis looks as if he’s going to punch him in the face, so Styles stands up. As if that will better shield him from a blow. Instead of punching, Louis starts yelling.

            “How can you be so close minded when dealing with poetry? Don’t you have a degree in this? Where is your creativity?” Louis exclaims. Styles walks around the desk, inappropriately resting his hand on the small of Louis’ back. The last time Louis got worked up, all he had to do was touch his arm and he calmed down. Sadly, it doesn’t work this time. Louis doesn’t push the arm away, but he does continue yelling.

            “These assignments are absurd. Why would I want to discuss the positive influences of someone’s poetry when they were such a terrible person?” Louis complains, his voice still raised. It’s a bit squeaky, which Styles finds endearing. He hates the fact that he finds it endearing.

            “Louis, I’ve already told you that you’re just going to have to deal with it. This is the last assignment where you will have to disregard the poets background,” Professor Styles explains, rubbing his hand along Louis’ lower back and breaking even more boundaries. He maintains an even voice surprisingly, as he rubs soft circles along Louis’ back.

            “How is talking about how great a poet is unbiased? Sounds like you’re a bit biased,” Louis responds snarkily, in reference to Styles Ted Hughes praising, crossing his arms across his chest but slightly melting into the touches. He keeps his facial expression hard though, not wanting Styles to know the affect he has on him. At least not in the present moment.

            “We’re only talking about the poems, not the actual poet themselves. And all of these poems have had a positive influence on the world of poetry. They introduced new styles and-“

            “That’s ridiculous to completely disregard the poet behind the poem….” Styles stops listening to Louis, he watches him as he angrily talks after interrupting him. He’s cute, and a toxic thought pops into his head as his eyes wander around Louis’ face.

            “Can you shut up, for once?” Styles asks, and Louis’ eyes widen in shock. He opens his mouth, and Styles can tell he’s going to start yelling again about something absurd that Styles really doesn’t want to listen to. Professor Styles keeps talking instead, not giving Louis the chance to yell. “How…. how do you go from flirting with me in the middle of class to these annoying outbursts of anger? Can’t you just, can’t you just…” Fuck it.

            He leans in, and molds his lips against Louis’ open mouth. The wind gets knocked out of him when their lips finally meet, and he can finally feel Louis’ softness against his own lips. His hands reach up to cup Louis’ face, as Louis leans closer to Styles and he finally relaxes into Styles’ embrace. Styles doesn’t deepen the kiss, instead he pulls away and ghosts his lips across Louis’ while he comprehends what he just did fully. Fuck.

            “Well, Professor Styles, you’re very naughty,” Louis says softly, holding onto Styles’ arms as he pulls his face far enough to look up at the man. “And you’re saying I’m sending mixed signals? What a twat.”

            “You talk too much,” Is all Styles says. He realizes he should probably say some more. “We can’t say anything about this. You know that, right?” Styles asks, hiding his nervousness by clearing his throat.

            “Of course. Why would I say anything? That’d mean I wouldn’t be able to kiss you again,” Louis says with a soft smile, and lick of the lips.

            “Louis…. I’m not sure if that would be a good idea,” Styles warns, and he realizes his hands are on Louis’ hips. How did they get there? He slowly pulls them away, and takes a step back.

            “I think it would be a great idea.” Louis takes a step forward, reclosing the distance. He stands on his tippy toes, his lips brushing against Styles’ as he speaks. “And I know for a fact, Professor, that you can’t resist me.” His lips dragging against Styles’ as he speaks drives the professor crazy, he has to muffle back a noise. Without another world, Louis saunters out the door, swaying his hips

            His headache becomes a lot worse. Louis is definitely having a toll on his health.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles has the brilliant idea to blatantly ignore Louis. Louis raises his hand in class, and Styles does everything in his power to seem so invested in his lecture he’s unable to answer Louis’ question. This causes not only weird glances from the students, but a fuming Louis glaring right at him. To make matters worse, Louis raises his hand _multiple_ times, making Professor Styles looks like a complete dick.

            “Alright, class, I’ll see you next week,” Styles says, already packing up and trying to make a beeline to the door but all of the students are crowded around it and now he’s stuck with Louis. Now he not only looks angry, but disappointed. “We can talk in my office,” Styles says, with a sigh. They walk there together in silence, and Styles closes the door behind him and locks it when they get inside.

            “Is your brilliant plan to ignore me for the rest of the semester?” Louis asks, sitting on the couch and Styles awkwardly sits on the other side of it. He crosses his legs, uncrosses them and crosses them the other way, then opts to just leave them uncrossed.

            “Uh, yeah,” Professor Styles mumbles, looking over at Louis who frowns.

            “You’re the one who kissed me, this is your fault,” Louis says, softly. “Am I really that bad of a kisser that you can’t even look at me anymore?” Louis asks when Styles drops his gaze to the floor.

            “You’re my student, dammit. You’re my student and I messed up, Louis. I shouldn’t have formed such a complex relationship with you,” Styles says tensely, eyes still focused on the floor. He begins tapping his foot anxiously, chewing at the inside of his lip.

            “I would never tell anyone,” Louis whispers, scooting closer to Styles and placing his hand on the mans back. He tenses up, but looks over at Louis.

            “I’m so... so mad at myself. I shouldn’t have walked you to your dorm or lent you my coat or put my hand on your back or shared that damn muffin with you or payed Dr. Carroll to help you with math or-or anything,” Styles says, mostly yelling to himself as he stands up and paced around the room.

            “You payed Dr. Carroll…?” Louis asks, forehead creasing with concern.

            “Yes! Yes I did and I don’t know why!” Styles exclaims, losing his composure a bit. Well, quite a lot.

            “Why don’t you sit down and act like an adult so we can talk about this?”  Louis snaps, his brief fondness dissipating. Styles stops, a little hurt from Louis’ rude words but he’s right. He’s being an idiot and yelling isn’t helping, he’s never this irrational. He slowly sits next to Louis, their knees touching. “It’s obvious you care about me,” Louis starts, bumping their knees and looking over at Styles.

            “That’s ridiculous,” Styles scoffs, crossing his arms defensively.

            “Don’t be a dick, it’s not a bad thing to care about someone. I…I care about you,” Louis says the last part softly, and Styles looks over at him. He studies Louis’ features. His nose that curves up at the tip, eyelashes that brush beneath his eyes, arched eyebrows, vibrant blue eyes that have now turned grey, fringe sweeping his forehead, delicate cheekbones, plush lips. “Say something,” Louis whispers, watching Professor Styles’ eyes flick across his face.

            Styles leans in, something that still feels strange to him, and gently places his lips against his students, reaching his hands up to cup his jaw. Louis sighs out a sweet sound as their lips simply mold together, Styles sucking gently on Louis’ bottom lip before pulling away. He keeps their faces close, nuzzling their noses together.

            “Maybe I care about you a little,” He whispers, lips brushing against Louis’ as he talks. “But we can’t do this,” He adds.

            “You say that but you’re the one who keeps kissing me,” Louis says, a hint of a whine to his voice as Styles slowly backs away and lets his hands fall away from Louis’ face. “Now you’re going to ignore me again, aren’t you?” Louis asks, hands pulling at loose strings on his jumper.

            “Yeah,” Styles breathes out, seeing no point in trying to lie at this point.

            “I really wish you wouldn’t,” Louis says, his bottom lip getting shake while he talks. He lowers his gaze, focusing on the loose string that gets a bit longer with every tug. “I’ll leave you alone,” Louis mutters, grabbing his bag and scurrying out of the door before a single tear dampens his cheek.

 

            That night, Louis waits for Professor Styles in the parking lot…but he never comes.

 

\--

 

            When Professor Styles walks into class, Louis is not in his usual seat. Maybe he dropped the class. He starts his lesson, discussion how the Renaissance Era influenced modern day poetry. It isn’t until about ten minutes before class ends that he sees Louis, all the way in the back right corner. He looks down at his notebook when Styles glances in his direction.

            “Class dismissed,” Styles says, interrupting himself mid sentence, he can’t remember what he was talking about anyway. Louis quietly packs up his bag, walks down the stairs of the auditorium seats, and leaves without a word. Looks like Louis is making it easier for Professor Styles to ignore him, at least he’s finally cooperating. Styles can’t help but notice the dull pain in his chest.

 

\--

 

            It’s like that for a few weeks, even through midterms when he can tell Louis is stressed by his constant furrowed eyebrows and disheveled hair. Louis’ head drops like a bowling ball when they pass in the hall, Styles just watches him sorrowfully. Essay due dates pass without Louis storming into his office, demanding a better prompt or feedback on his draft. The work he turns in is still stellar and earns him an A, but it’s not the same. No more sassy comments, no more yelling, no more compliments, no more soft kisses….even though they only kissed twice.

            Styles is trudging back to his office, thinking of all the essays he has to grade. When he walks in, he’s very surprised to find Louis standing right in the middle. He pauses in the doorway, unable to take another step as Louis’ eyes practically pierce his soul.

            “Are you just going to stand there and stare or greet me like an actual gentlemen?” Louis says, scoffing and crossing his arms. Styles clears his throat closing the door behind him, his hand switching the lock as well. “We need to talk,” Louis states, face emotionless.

            “No, we don’t. You don’t have power over me, I’m the Professor,” Styles says, hiding the nervousness in his voice.

            “I do have power of you, not that I would use it,” Louis says, taking a step towards Styles.

            “So now you’re resulting to blackmailing me?” Styles asks, subtly glaring at Louis.

            “No, I told you I care about you and I mean it,” Louis says softly, stepping even closer to Styles.

            “Then what’s your motive?” Styles asks, body tensing up. Louis stays quiet, leaning in and resting his head on Styles’ chest and closing his eyes.

            “I miss you,” Louis whispers into the fabric covering Styles’ chest. Styles can’t help but wrap his arms around Louis and hold him close. He sways them a few times before Louis steps back. “I want to kiss you. No blackmailing, no alternate motives, no strings attached. I know you want the same,” Louis proposes, chewing at his bottom lip.

            “You’ve turned soft. I was expecting for you to come in here and yell at me,” Styles says, smiling because he’s really missed this. And suddenly all his worries about his career disappear, for now. Styles leans down, bumping his forehead against Louis’, their lips barely touching. Louis smiles softly, nuzzling his nose against Styles’. He makes the first move, again, dipping down so that their lips finally make contact. This time they’re both able to feel it, instead of being caught in the moment like the first time. While their tongues intermingle, Styles takes some time to appreciate the moment. Louis is so submissive, keeping his hands resting on Styles’ chest while he lets Styles roam his body. His hands are currently on Louis’ waist, feeling the dip there. The way Louis’ lips mold against Styles’ almost submissively if that’s possible. He can’t help but groan. His deep groans harmonize with Louis’ high pitched sounds. Reluctantly, he pulls away but rubs his hands up and down Louis’ slim waist. Louis looks up at him with big, round, doe eyes. His lips are puffy and tinted red. His cheeks are flushed a nice pink shade. Styles is about to lose it. He occupies his mind by combing through Louis’ fringe, making it look as if he didn’t just have an intense make out session.

            “You’re so pretty,” Styles whispers, kissing the top of Louis’ head when his hair looks suitable again and not so wild. He still continues to come through the fringe softly, probably messing it up once again. “I probably still won’t talk to you in class,” Styles warns.       

            “I understand,” Louis whispers with a nod, closing his eyes for a few minutes before reopening them and looking at Styles. “Please don’t ignore me completely,” Louis asks, looking at Styles with those round eyes.

            “I have to,” Professor Styles replies, already noticing the angering consuming Louis’ face.

            “You can’t just lead me on like this. Kiss me like that, twice, then go off and ignore me and pretend I don’t exist. It’s not fair! Why would you even kiss me?” Louis shouts, gathering his bag from the couch and slinging it over his shoulder. Styles would have stopped him from leaving, but he didn’t have anything to say to get him to stay.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles is a man of his word, as during the next class meeting he begins ignoring Louis again. And Louis is still forced to walk to his dorm alone at night. It’s colder, the dewy air burning his skin. There isn’t any slow yet, just the occasional late night slush. As winter approaches, nights feel lonelier. They both think of each other’s lips against their own for warmth instead of igniting the fireplace.

            Louis continues to excel in Professor Styles’ class as well as all of his other classes, which is no surprise. Louis does, however, continues to try to participate in class discussions, which comes to a surprise to Styles. Louis gets especially annoyed during a rather heated discussion of Ernest Hemmingway.

            “Since the professor is biased, I’ll just speak my opinion anyway,” Louis starts, interjecting in Professor Styles calling on someone else in the class. Louis’ sat in his new seat in the back, so the class turns to face him. Styles’ lips are pressed firmly together, a giant metaphorical stick up his ass. “Although you might find Hemmingway’s work dreary and unnecessary, it was revolutionary at the time. Yes, many were writing similarly to him, but it was still important. Before his works about the horrors of World War I, war was greatly romanticized. It was seen as noble and a way to define your manhood,” Louis takes a brief pause to roll his eyes, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the desk. “Trench and chemical warfare was introduced during World War I, which finally depicted war as what is really is, a horrific and gruesome occurrence. We all know that today, but at the time it was a huge, well, slap in the face. So, instead of disregarding Hemmingway as just another person writing about how terrible war is, we should take it into historical context and acknowledge the significance that way,” Louis finished, taking in a deep breath. There were a few nods throughout the classroom, Professor Styles finally unclenched at the end.

            “Good point,” is all Styles comments on the matter. “It seems we have run out of time after that, I’ll see you next class.” Now Louis is the one with a scrunched up face as he walks up the front of the class, he hesitates, his movements hitching before he takes the final few steps to reach Styles.

            “You infuriate me,” Louis states as the last few students trickle out of the classroom.

            “The feelings mutual,” Styles retorts, packing up his satchel and slinging it over his broad shoulder. Louis pauses, looking up and down Styles for a few brief seconds.

            “I really want to kiss you,” Louis states, a little less abruptly this time.

            “That feeling is also mutual,” Styles whispers, almost ashamed to admit it and not quite sure why he is. Louis’ eyes literally light up, his lips curling a bit, not smug like Styles expected. “But we can’t,” Styles adds on quickly, taking a step backwards. Louis frowns, his eyes fading back to neutrality.

            “That was misleading as hell,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “This isn’t fair, y’know, I paid for this class to be a part of the discussions and you ignoring me because you made a _mistake_ is unfair. Actually, you made the same mistake multiple times. Either you stop being a dick and get over yourself and call on me in class, or you do all of that _and_ you get to make out with me in your office. Which sounds more appealing?” Louis questions, quirking an eyebrow.

            “Louis, stop, you’re too immature to understand why we can’t be involved in anyway,” Professor Styles, states, the two quickly falling silent as students for the next class start coming in. “We can continue this in my office,” Styles says, and before he can even finish Louis is bounding of to Professor Styles’ office, the man in as close of a pursuit as he can. Louis’ standing there, facing the doorway as Styles walks in and closes the door behind him.

            “I’m too immature?!” Here comes the fireworks. “Last time I checked, you’re the one who resulted in giving me the silent treatment like a fucking five year old instead of having an adult discussion about this like I wanted,” Louis shouts, his voice getting more high pitched, like it does when he’s angry.

            “I didn’t want to sit down and talk with you because I knew it would result in us kissing,” Styles hisses, trying to keep his voice down.

            “You mean _you_ kissing _me_ , since that’s what happened. So since you’re unable to control where you put your lips, I’m being punished?” Louis asks, calming himself down a bit to be able to speak coherently.

            “Yes.” Louis lunges at the man, not even sure what he’s planning on doing with his limbs but styles grabs the boys wrists before he can make contact. “What in the hell are you trying to do?” Styles exclaims as Louis shakes and jolts his arms but Styles keeps them in place with a firm grip. Louis lunges his head forward and Styles is fully prepared to be headbutted but Louis’ lips are forcefully pressed onto Styles. Styles still has a tight grip on Louis’ wrists, that are now by their side. When Louis pulls away, their noses and foreheads rest against one another.

            “You can’t kiss me after yelling about how I always kiss you,” Styles whispers, a smiling creeping onto his lips.

            “The scores 3-1, Styles, be quiet,” Louis snaps, keeping his voice at the same level as the professor’s.

            Styles leans in this time, kissing Louis’ bottom lip and sucking on it gently and Louis can’t help but smile which leads to messing teeth kissing and accidental tongue biting, but it’s great. It’s more than great.

            “4-1,” Louis whispers against the man’s lips, who chuckles.

            “You’re a menace, Louis. This is unhealthy,” He says, pulling back but still remaining close with his hands still secured around Louis’ wrists. “It’s not healthy to be yelling at each other in one moment then start kissing in the next,” Styles continues, Louis looking up at him with those ocean blue eyes.

            “Then let’s find something that is healthy,” Louis whispers, almost pleading.

            “A professor-student relationship can’t be healthy, Louis,” Styles retorts, loosening his grip on Louis’ wrist, they almost slip out of his grasp.

            “We’re just…just two adults consensually kissing each other. That’s it,” Louis argues and frowning when Styles lets go and takes a step back. “You can’t keep changing your mind. If you cared so much about being professional, you wouldn’t have kissed me in the first place. Actually, the fact that you care so much about being professional shows that this would have never happened. SO maybe…” Louis stops, sighing and closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Maybe there is something special between us,” Louis continues, trying to not sound extremely cliché. he fails, but Styles still smiles at his effort.

            “Can I have time to think about it?” Professor Styles asks, staring at the ground.

            “Okay, but either way you have my discretion, do what makes you happy.” Louis pauses at the door, looking back at the man. “Y’know, this door locks for a reason.” He winks, and Styles can’t help but smile as Louis waltzes out of his office.

 

\--

 

            The next week is excruciating. Professor Styles avoids Louis, not because he doesn’t want to see him but because he has no idea what to say to him. He spends his time in between classes with his head in his hands, staring at the mahogany desk with his office door closed but not locked. He half expects Louis to come waltzing in, but he doesn’t. Teaching classes are horrendous, he stumbles over his words and coughs to cover up his forgetfulness. He can’t help that his mind is occupied with other, possibly more important, things.

            It should be easy, he should just say no. The fact that he’s even contemplating this is absurd and shocking to himself. But here he sits, a week later in his office, hands gripping onto his hair while he paces the room. Half of his mind is cursing himself for giving yet another frazzled lecture, while the other is thinking about Louis. _Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis, “_ Louis! You’re…you’re here.” The small boy interrupts his train of thought when he pokes his head into the door way, stepping in fully after a few seconds and closing the door behind him.

            “That was a really bad lecture,” Louis states, his voice soft as he steps closer to Styles. He rubs his tense bicep as Styles lowers his hands from being intertwined in his hair. Louis rubs soft circles with his thumb as the point of Styles’ shoulder. “I feel awful,” Louis adds on, letting his hands drop to his sides.

            “You feel awful? How do you think I feel?” Styles snaps, shutting his eyes and pinching in between his eyes at the bridge of his nose. He takes in a sharp inhale, and exhales through parted lips. “I’m sorry,” He says softly, opening his eyes to see Louis looking at him with those round eyes. “Only kissing, yeah? No drama or anything? No random screaming at me or embarrassing me in front of class by flirting or anything?” Professor Styles questions.

            “Well, I’d like to be a bit friendly with you, but yes. I may still yell at you on our own time, however,” Louis says, anticipation building up in his stomach.

            “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Styles mumbles to himself, and Louis’ face nearly splits in half from his smile. Styles smiles too, unable to hold it back as he closes the distance and rests his hand on Louis’ cheek. He leans in, a motion that’s already familiar but soon to become much more familiar. His lips brush against Louis’ before molding them together. His hands are on Louis’ waist, fitting perfectly, Louis’ hands are on Styles shoulders. Styles moves his lips down, trickling feathery kisses along the boys jaw as Louis lets out light laughs.

            “Professor,” Louis whines, still laughing softly as he grabs the man’s chin to reconnect their lips for a few more moments before Styles pulls away.

            “I actually have a lot of work to do, I haven’t gotten much done in the past week,” Styles says, and Louis nods softly, watching as Styles makes his way to couch, sitting down and shuffling in his bag for some papers. Louis watches for a brief time before taking the steps to sit next to Styles,  the pair shuffling closer as they both pretend to be preoccupied with their thoughts or work. It only lasts for a few minutes before Styles grabs the back of Louis’ neck and pulls their lips back together, one hand gripping on his waist and the other still on his neck. Louis slings a leg over Styles’ lap to get closer, running his hands through the man’s hair and messing up his perfectly placed hairstyle. Styles pulls away, only to press kisses down Louis’ neck.

            “I’m never going to get work done with you around,” Professor Styles says in between kisses, turning the attention of his hands to rub along Louis’ thighs. “You’re a really good kisser,” He adds on, smiling against Louis’ skin.

            “You’re alright. You’re much nicer to people you make out with,” Louis mumbles, chewing on his bottom lip and tilting his head as Styles continues to kiss along his neck. “Well, I should go so you can actually get some work done. I will see you….later,” Louis says shuffling his legs off of Styles’ lap standing up and grabbing his bag to sling over his shoulder. He leans down, giving an awkward peck on the cheek. He was never taught the proper manners of how to say goodbye to a professor he has made out with on several occasions. Styles smiles, watching as the boy leave and pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. _Fuck._

_  
_


	8. Chapter 8

            “Lock the door,” Louis reminds frantically, rushing over to clear some space on Professor Styles desk, then turning around only for Styles to be right there. He grabs onto Louis’ waist and quickly lifts him up onto the desk before Louis gets the chance to get himself up. “Kiss me,” Louis orders, grabbing Styles by the tie and yanking his head closer. Styles cooperates, of course, molding his lips against Louis’ impatiently. Louis whines, and it sends chills up Styles’ spine.

            He bites down on Louis’ lower lip, earning another whine from the boy. Their lips move in sync, Louis melting against Styles and resting his hands on the mans chest. Their tongues move together so nicely, but Louis pulls away. That simply gives Styles an opportunity to kiss down his neck, tugging at the boys collar to show off his collar bone and Styles begins to suck there as Louis talks in a breathy voice.

            “Finals are next week,” He starts, pushing up against Styles’ lips. “I-I need to focus on studying,” He continues, softly whining as Styles bites down on the mark he just made, lapping his tongue over it before pulling away. Louis rests his fingertips over it, looking up at Professor Styles.

            “Okay, yeah,” Styles says, nodding and smiling softly. “What…what are you doing for winter holiday?” Styles asks, rubbing up and down Louis’ sides.

            “Going back to Donny to see my family,” Louis answers, linking his arms behind Styles’ neck.

            “Then I guess we’ll be taking a brief hiatus from…this,” Styles states, and Louis nods a bit before leaning up to kiss Styles’ bottom lip. “’M going to miss you- miss kissing you,” Styles corrects, and Louis simply sighs in a pleased tone before leaning forward to rest his head on Styles’ chest, running his hands along the soft fabric of his dark green sweater.

            “Me too.”

 

\--

 

Louis walks into class on Tuesday with a deep purple underneath his eyes, and disheveled hair. The past few days, Louis would only visit Harry is he needed someone to quiz him. Styles would then take his mind off of things by making out with him until Louis insisted he had to go. Now he’s here to take Professor Styles’ final. He already had two yesterday, it was all a blur and he can only hope he did well.

            He sits a few rows back, and rests his head on the table. Maybe he can take a five-minute nap before the exam starts. There’s a tap on his head, and he looks up to see Styles. He smiles. Louis looks like a complete wreck, but still adorable. Styles hands him the test, a small packet of 5 pages. Mostly questions asking you to analyze a given poem or underline certain literary devices in a given poem. It’ll be easy. Louis begins, and every time he flips a page he looks up to smile at Harry. Things ranging from “You’ll do great” and “You’re so smart and intelligent” to things like “I can’t wait to make out with you” and “Your butt looks really nice” are scribbled along the pages in Professor Styles’ handwriting. Styles sends a wink Louis’ way, and continues grading exams from previous classes while watching over the students. They somehow find a way to cheat off of each other, tragic.

            Louis takes a decent amount of time to finish. A few people ahead of him already turn in their exam, and about halfway through the allotted time he’s turning his in as well with a soft smile. Now Styles just has to sit here and wait until everybody else finishes, he can’t help it if his mind wanders to his lips on Louis’.

 

After all the students are done with the exam, he goes back to his office. It’s locked, which is strange. He doesn’t remember locking it. When he unlocks it, he quickly sees why. Louis is on his couch napping, and using Styles’ jacket as a blanket. His heart actually bursts with fondness; he has to hold his chest for a minute while locking the door behind him. He wants to go nuzzle up behind Louis, spooning. But, they’re just two people making out. Would cuddling be somehow crossing the line. Styles opts to sit near Louis’ head, petting his hair softly as he snores softly. Then he feels a bit off, and slowly stands up and makes his way to his desk where he continues to grade tests.

 

            A few minutes later, the disgruntled kitten stirs. He was previously curled up, facing the back of the couch. Now, he’s stretching out and rolling over. He blinks a few times, looking around the room until his eyes land on Professor Styles. He smiles instinctively, and Styles smiles back from his desk. Louis is still curled up on the couch when Styles carefully makes his way over to sit where he was previously. Louis sits up, leaning his bodyweight against Styles and nuzzling his head into the mans neck. Shivers run down Styles’ spine when Louis starts nipping lightly at his skin.

            “You’re going to try to ignore me again after winter break, aren’t you?” Louis mumbles against Styles neck, resuming his soft nips and kisses afterwards.

            “You know me too well,” Styles mutters, a sad smile on his face. Louis sits up properly, rubbing his nose.

            “Not really, it’s just easy to anticipate something reoccurring when it has happened so many times before.” Louis states with a sigh, standing up and making his way to the door. “I have another exam.”

 

\--

 

            The next day, Styles finds Louis in his office napping again. Styles grabs his coat from the rack, and gently lays it over the boy. Louis’ eyes shoot open, the electric blue shocking Styles’ He reaches up and grabs Styles by the collar. pulling him forward and crashing his lips against the man. The force is enough to pull Styles off balance, causing him to stumble on the couch and forcing him to straddle the boy while still being forcefully kissed. Louis pushes Styles’ head down to his own neck, and Styles takes that as a sign to mark him up. He begins sucking a light hickey underneath Louis’ jaw, and Louis lets out the sweetest moan that Styles can’t help but move further down to begin working on another one. Another sweet moan, a bit louder this time. Styles is about to work on a third one until Louis is squirming underneath him, trying to sit up. Styles scoots off from his original hovering position, standing up and straightening out his blazer.

            “That was weird. Do you ever get a weird feeling after we make out?” Louis asks, rubbing his eyes.

            “Yes, I do,” Styles answers honestly, sitting down next to Louis. “I think it would be weird if we didn’t get an unsettling feeling.” They sit in silence, Styles taking the time to study Louis’ soft but sharp facial features and notice how his lips are a bit puffy and pink. He also admires the hickeys on his neck and jaw. “You know…after winter break we probably won’t be seeing each other much.” Louis simply nodded, hiding a smile between pursed lips.

 

\--

 

“Stop telling me to fucking calm down, Professor! My entire future could crumble within the next hour, how am I supposed to be calm about that?” We’re back to Louis yelling since final grades will be posted in approximately one hour. Louis is pacing around Styles’ office, and Styles decides to stop talking. Every time he does it results in yelling. When Louis opens his mouth to speak, Styles braces himself. “I’m sorry, I’m so stressed and this means a lot to me,” Louis whines, walking back over to the man and collapsing into his arms. Styles is practically supporting all of his body weight, Louis gripping onto the back of his shirt. He has his arms securely around Louis’ waist.

“It’s stressful, I know. But you’re smart, Louis, and you studied so hard for this. Hard work pays off,” Styles reassures, rubbing up and down the boys sides.

“Distract me,” Louis demands, already standing on his toes to kiss the man. Styles presses himself against Louis, holding onto his hips as he molds his lips against Louis’. Louis submits, opening his mouth for Styles as his fingertips dance along Styles’ biceps. Louis can’t help but fantasize about Styles pinning him against the wall or lifting him up onto his desk. Louis whines at the thought, but pulls away when he hears his phone goes off. Louis pushes Styles away, grabbing his phone and clicking furiously. Styles holds his breath, and Louis looks over at him with his lips parted.

“I got all A’s.” Styles rushes over and picks the boy up, he’s lighter than he thought, and twirls him around before crashing their lips together. After the initial laughs and sweet kisses fades, Louis steps away awkwardly, clearing his throat. Styles pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, tapping his foot.

“I guess this is it, then. Winter holiday starts next week,” Styles says, watching Louis twiddle his thumbs.

“I signed up for one of your classes next semester,” Louis blurts out, looking up at Styles through those beautiful baby blues.

“W-W-Why would you do that?” Styles stammers, running his hands through his hair instinctively.

“Don’t get too excited, now,” Louis mutters. “I don’t want to let you go so quickly. I’m sorry,” Louis pauses, trying to think of something to say to help patch this over. “I know you probably never wanted to start this and you were probably happy whatever this is was going to end soon but I like… I like talking with you and being around you and kissing you, especially kissing you.” Louis speaks faster than normal, his words slightly slurring together.

            “I like all of those things too, but that doesn’t make it okay. I know this is all my fault but…” _I don’t know._ Professor Styles squeezes the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

            “You said you just wanted to make out, no drama. This is becoming quite dramatic,” Louis complains, handing Styles’ coat back to him while standing up. “I’ll see you next semester,” Louis says, and leaves. This should be the last time Styles ever properly sees the boy.

 

\--

 

            When Louis goes home for winter break all of his siblings are convinced that he has a boy back at university that they don’t stop pestering him about it. He doesn’t have a boy, maybe a man, but even then they’re just using each other for a pair of lips to kiss. The pestering gets so persistent and annoying that Louis doesn’t feel bad when he tells his family that the break is only two weeks instead of the actual three it is. Besides, he needs a week of silence to begin reading his course books and getting ahead on early assignments.

            Which is exactly what he does. He heads back to his dorm a week early and spends the week reading and annotating the first three chapters for each of his courses. He starts on a couple of boring essays, gathering sources for research papers that are months away. he does this all cozied up under a blanket with a warm cup of tea most definitely not thinking about Professor Styles and how perfect it would be if he was kissing his neck right now. That would be inappropriate, even though he may have taken pictures of the hickey Styles gave him to remember the feeling. It really was great. And even though Louis has decided to torture Professor Styles by signing up for another one of his classes, there’s still the fear that he’ll continue on with his plan to ignore Louis. Which is very much possible.

            Louis sighs, flopping back on his bed and looking up at the ceiling. His eyes sting a bit from staring at his laptop screen while reading all of these scholarly articles. He closes his eyes, imagining a pair of lips pressing against his and the sudden realization of how utterly lonely he is hits him. His life is tragic. He has succumb to making out with his Professor, a dirty sin. Why must he like doing it so much?

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles has decided that his lonely life has hit an all-time low. He has resulted in making out with a student, a _student,_ to fill the gaping hole in his heart. He loathes himself for not taking Louis’ advice and just getting a damn cat.

            He sighs, letting the scorching water pelt red marks on his skin as he massages organic tea tree oil shampoo into his scalp. He looks down, his dick hard, and sighs and begins to hate himself even more. Not only did he actually make out with a student multiple times, he’s actively lusting after him. He’s a terrible human being, it’s decided. And he reminds himself of that in his head after every pump of his hand around his cock.


	9. Chapter 9

            “I’ve missed you- kissing you,” Styles mumbles, as he pulls back from Louis’ lips to take in a breath of air, barely getting any before Louis is grabbing him by the back of the neck and reconnecting their lips. They move their lips together fiercely, a whole three weeks’ worth of kisses to make up for. Styles holds onto Louis’ waist a bit tighter, and Louis pulls at Styles soft curls a bit harder. “You’re so hot,” Styles mumbles with his next attempt at getting some air in his lungs. Louis lets him, pulling back to focus his attention on Styles’ neck. “No-no visible marks, Louis,” Styles warns.

            Louis looks up at the man with glassy eyes, smiling as he unbuttons just the first two buttons on Styles shirt, beginning to suck a deep mark below his collar bone, and then another in the center of his chest, and a last one underneath the other collar bone. Styles breaks down and moans at the last one. Louis pulls back and his lips are pink and plump and styles just devours him again, crashing their mouths together so hard that their teeth clank against each other, Styles would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt but all he wants is to kiss Louis.

“Does this mean… you’re not going to ignore me?” Louis asks, resting their foreheads against each other, their lips ghosting over each other.

“I need a stress relief,” Styles mumbles as an excuse, a subtle smile on his lips when a bright smile emerges from Louis’ mouth. Professor Styles watches as Louis rebuttons Styles’ top two shirt buttons, but not before he runs his fingertips over the marks. “No strings attached, remember,” Styles says, and Louis nods, his fingers crossed behind his back.

“No strings attached,” Louis echoes, smiling softly as he takes a step back and twirls around, grabbing his backpack and heading out the door.

 

\--

 

            Professor Styles is lecturing about something, Louis isn’t sure what, however. He’s too distracted by the way his lips are moving and thinking about how they showed be moving that way down his neck and chest and towards his… Louis’ eyes snap open, jolting in his chair when a hand rests on his shoulder.

            “Was my lecture that boring?” Styles inquires, smiling down at the boy. Louis grumbles, rubbing his eyes before reopening them. He blinks away the blurriness, and looks up at Styles.

            “M’sorry. I’ll make it up to you,” Louis mumbles, smiling lopsided as he stands up, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. Styles rubs the boys lower back a few times as they walk towards the door, but his hands find their way into his pockets before they enter the hallway.

            While Louis watches Styles’ hands slip into his pockets is when he realizes his pants are velvet. But the individual short strands are so tightly knit together that one wouldn’t even notice unless you were intently staring at them, like Louis was. Louis can’t help but smile, the two of them both heading to Professor Styles’ office like second nature now. Louis fumbles with the lock behind his back while Styles presses him against the door, a little bit more forceful than he’s used to, not that he’s complaining.

            Styles rubs his hands up and down Louis’ sides and back, stopping when he reaches the arch in his lower back right before his bum. It’s like forbidden fruit. He so desperately wants to take a bite out of it, but is scared of the consequences. “You can make it up to me by…” Styles starts while pulling back for some air, but Louis dives back in, their tongues lapping against each other. “Staying in here with me and…” Another gasp for air, this time Styles reignites the kiss because he already misses the feeling of Louis’ lips. “And making out with me whenever I get too stressed grading papers. Yeah?” Styles asks, hopeful as if he some worried little teenager asking someone to go to prom. Louis places a gentle kiss on Styles’ lips.

            “Okay,” he whispers coolly, his breath bouncing off of Styles’ mouth and a soft smile spreads across both of their lips. “But, I have some studying to do as well, so none of your creepy intent stares you do when we’re in the same room,” Louis says, stepping away to set himself up on the couch.

            “What do you mean?” Styles asks, confused while staring intently and fondly at Louis.

            “That!” Louis exclaims, waving his arms around in Styles’ directions. “It’s like you’re going to murder me,” Louis says, laughing to himself but Styles pouts to himself inwardly, sulking to his desk. He focuses on his computer screen when he sits down, barely blinking.

            “Hey,” Louis says, bouncing on the couch. “Hey,” Louis whines when he gets no response from the man. “I’m sorry, please look at me. I want you to look at me,” Louis whines, bouncing like a child begging for dessert. In a way he is, Styles tastes like dessert after all.

            “I wouldn’t want to creep you out with my intense eyes,” Styles states, trying his hardest not to sound bitter but completely failing.

            “I like it, though. I really do,” Louis whines, standing up and walking over to the man, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, bending over to kiss the sitting man’s cheek. “I like it a lot,” Louis whispers, rubbing his hands down Styles chest. “And I like your velvet pants, and your patterned shirts, and your rose patterned boots, and your weird satchel thing, and…” Louis trails off while Styles captures Louis’ hands in his, intertwining them. He looks at their hands for a few long seconds before jolting away, stepping in front of Styles desk.

            “Hey, hey, hey,” he says breathlessly, shimmying around like he has to pee.

            “What, what, what?” Styles says, a smile creeping across his face.

            “I’m moving,” Louis says, fiddling with his thumbs.

            “Is that your way of saying we can’t do this anymore?” Styles asks, raising an eyebrow.

            “No! No… I’m moving and… I need help. If it’s not too much of a bother… I need help moving. I’m renting a flat and moving out of the dorms,” Louis says quickly, watching with big eyes as Styles stands up and approaches him.

            “Of course, I’ll help you move. We just have to be careful about people seeing us, yeah?” Louis nods quickly, nuzzling his head against the broad chest while Styles wraps his arms around him. When Louis closes his eyes, he sees a bright picture of their hands intertwined.

 

\--

 

“So this is the new building you’ll be living in? Looks nice. You didn’t need any help moving out of your dorm?” Styles asks when he gets into the main lobby, where Louis was waiting.

“I don’t have a lot of stuff. I just…I ordered a lot of new furniture that I need help with,” Louis says, the pair standing awkwardly, ten feet away from each other. They’re not in the comfort of a locked office. Their relationship of sorts feels awkward being outside. Louis steps forward a bit closer. “I, uh, all the furniture is already up there but they just sort of left it all by the door so… I need help moving it around,” Louis explains, heading towards the elevator and glancing back to make sure Professor Styles is following. He presses level five when they’re both in, and they stand in silence, stealing quick glances at one another. Louis leads the way to his front door, opening the door halfway before chuckling and sliding in.

“Careful, the movers put the couch right in the way of the door,” Louis explains, Professor Styles slipping in behind him. Styles looks around, nice clean wooded flooring and cream colored walls. The rooms echoes when he walks, his heels clicking on the floor. It still feels empty despite the pile of furniture in the front room. “A bit empty, but I still haven’t bought any decorations or anything,” Louis explains, looking back at Styles.

“It’s lovely, like you,” Styles says, a bit awkwardly as he walks over to Louis and wraps his arm around his slender waist. “What are we going to do about this pile of furniture?” Styles asks, looking back at it and chuckling.

“Well, I’m going to change into some shorts and we’re going to get to work,” Louis says, smiling and disappearing into a back room that Styles assumes is his room. He comes back a few moments later, shorts that go down to his mid-thigh and cling onto his thighs and bum nicely. Styles swallows hard, coughing against the back of his hand. “Ready?” Louis asks, walking over to a queen size bed frame and smiling. Styles chuckles, walking over and rolling his sleeves up and gripping onto the underside. Louis squats down, looking across at Professor Styles.

“Alright, 1, 2, lift,” Styles counts, and with a grunt they lift up the bed frame and shuffle it into the back room that Louis previously disappeared into.

“Put it in the center, against the back wall,” Louis instructs, shuffling his back against the wall.

“I can’t put it there if you’re there,” Styles grunts, chuckling as Louis sets down his side and slowly slides his way out from behind the bed frame. Styles pushes it back against the wall fully, smiling at the smaller boy and watching him adjust his shorts.

“How about, I show you where I want you to move the couch, and I’ll bring my mattress,” Louis suggests, smiling and grabbing Styles’ hands. He swings their hands and smiles up at the man.

“Oh, so I have to move the big couch and you get to push a little mattress?” Styles teases, squeezing Louis’ hands and grinning. Louis nods, starting to lead them back to the main room and releasing his hands to skip over to the mattress.

“So, if you could position to couch in the back-left corner. Thank you, love,” Louis says, smiling as he grabs a hold of the mattress. He lets out a grunt when he lifts it up on its side, getting behind it and pushing it back into the corner room. Styles smiles, watching Louis work his little thick legs to push the mattress, and Styles can’t help but chuckle as he once again hides out in the back room. Styles pushes back his hair, and grabs one end of the plush faux suede couch and begins pushing, digging the toe of his boots into the wood. Of course Louis asked him to move the couch to the other side of the room.

It takes him about ten minutes for Styles to perfectly position Louis’ couch, and in the process he unbuttoned his black button down shirt. He definitely did not think his fashion choice for moving furniture around was very good. He toes his boots off and nudges them into a corner, socks slipping against the smooth wood flooring. He walks back to the room Louis’ in, and he’s curled up on the bed with his back to the door. Styles grins, jumping on the bed behind Louis and wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist.

“So, while I was working hard, you were back here napping?” Styles growls, and grabs Louis’ waist. Louis begins giggling, holding onto Styles’ wrists that are wrapped around him. Louis rolls over, facing Professor Styles and looking down at his toned chest and abs.

“Professor Styles,” Louis says, grinning and resting a hand on Styles’ toned chest.

“Harry,” Professor Styles says quietly and quickly. “Call me Harry, when we’re alone of course,” Harry says softly, snaking his arms more snugly around Louis’ waist.

“Harry,” Louis echoes, lips curling at the corners as he leans in and presses his lips against Harry’s. “Harry,” Louis repeats, letting it roll off of his tongue effortlessly. He runs his hands down Harry’s abs, just because they’re there and Louis simply cannot resist. Harry can’t help but smile, capturing Louis’ hand in his own and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the palm. It’s intimate. They’ve done more than this, having each other’s tongues down their throats. However, lying here holding each other suddenly feels like a boundary is being crossed. Instead of using each other physically, suddenly it’s emotional. “Harry,” Louis repeats a third time, but this time he wants the man’s attention instead of just getting used to the sounds rolling off of his tongue.

“Yeah,” Styles responds, mouth still hidden behind Louis’ hands, his eyes loom over and stare right into Louis’.

“I like you,” He says, barely above a whisper and Louis lets his head sink down onto the flat mattress and he closes his eyes, deciding it’s best if he doesn’t see Harry’s reaction.

“The feelings mutual,” Harry responds, and Louis’ eyes flutter back open. “Now, I saw a bookshelf in a box out there that needed to be assembled, why don’t we go do that?” Harry suggests, already standing up and lifting Louis up with him with a tight grasp around his waist.

“Or you can do it and I can just watch,” Louis suggests, and Harry hides a smile in the back of Louis’ fringe, kissing the top of his head while they walk out to the still messy front room. It concerns him, how he’ll feel incredibly awkward around this boy that’s like a dream, and suddenly slip into overwhelming comfort. As if it’s normal, as if they’re normal. Harry looks at Louis, however, and swallows hard.

He focuses his attention on all the little parts and screws of the bookshelf, half-listening to Louis’ analysis’ of all the epic poems and why he believes other scholars are wrong. Harry gets into his own analysis in his head of what it means to like someone. Sure, he likes Louis. He’s funny, stunning, and kissable. But what does it even mean to like someone? He enjoys his presence, most of the time, sure. But, they agreed no strings attached. He can’t let his feeling get all waddled up in this mess. Does that mean he should have no feeling what-so-ever towards the lad? Harry looks up at Louis who is lying on the ground, knees bent, and looking up at the ceiling. Harry can’t help but smile as he twists a screw more into place. He wouldn’t be doing something like this if he didn’t like the boy, of course. But, that only brings him back to the initial question, what does liking someone mean? Harry opts to not think about it anymore, merely putting the shelves into place instead.

“Alright, your highness. Where would you like this?” Harry asks, standing up, his knees cracking slightly.

“The room across from my bedroom, please,” Louis says, smiling and watching Harry’s biceps bulge as he picks up the book shelf from the back. “I’ll make us something to eat.” Louis disappears into the kitchen, the appliances already installed. He scavenges up some fruit, cutting it up and placing it in a nice bowl and pouring two glasses of water as well. Louis grabs the fruit and water, carrying it into the back room and setting it on a side table.

“Hey… Harry,” Louis says, smiling and walking over to a couple boxes on the floor, opening them and pulling out a pile of books and beginning to put them on the shelf. Harry watches, grabbing a couple of grapes out of the bowl and popping them into his mouth. Harry steps up behind Louis, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his cheek. Harry’s hands gravitate to Louis’ waist, squeezing there and causing Louis to cave into his touch, squealing in the back of his throat.

“Harry, ‘m sensitive,” Louis whines, turning around and pushing the man away. A smile spreads across both of their faces, Louis looking away. “This still feels weird, y’know?” Louis mumbles, Harry’s hands reach out to cup Louis’ face.

“I know, love. If you ever want this to end, tell me and I’ll leave you alone,” Harry reminds, and Louis reaches up and kisses Harry softly. Harry moving his hands back into Louis’ hands, massaging his scalp gently with the pads of his fingers.

            “That doesn’t feel weird, though,” Louis says when he pulls away, lips brushing against one another. The back of Harry’s knuckles brush against Louis’ cheeks. “I really like kissing you.”

            “I like kissing you too,” Harry says. The sit in silence for a few moments, looking at each other. “Want to make out on the couch?” Louis grins, grabbing Harry’s hand and quickly scurrying over to the other room, Harry quickly following. They fall on the couch together, legs intertwining as their lips crash against one another. Louis’ hands run along Harry’s still exposed abs, Harry gripping Louis’ waist.

            “You’re so hot,” Harry mumbles, nestling his face in Louis’ neck and nipping his soft skin. Harry imagines being inside Louis, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at just the thought. He grips Louis’ waist, groaning into Louis’ ear.

            “Looks like someone’s a bit excited,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s ear, Harry’s crotch pressed against Louis’ thigh. Harry sits up quickly, trying to pull away but Louis holds onto his arm as Harry turns his back to him. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Louis reassures, running his hands through Harry’s hair and waiting for him to say something.

            “I’m sorry, this… this shouldn’t happen,” Harry mutters, and Louis scoots up next to the man and grabs his hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of his knuckles.

            “It’s natural, love. I’ve thought of it too,” Louis assures, squeezing his hand. “Want me to… get you off real quick?” Louis suggests, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes as he looks back down at him, the mans cheeks turning red.

            “No, no we shouldn’t. It’ll go away in a few minutes,” Harry says quickly, and Louis just shrugs and keeps their fingers intertwined. “This is too much, Louis. We can’t do anything like that,” Harry says his free hand pushing through his hair nervously.

            “You’re the one who got a boner,” Louis mumbles, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms. “God, Harry. Right when I think we’re figuring something out it seems like we’re back to a confused mess,” Louis complains, sighing out dramatically.

            “So what, now somehow something is my fault? God, Louis, you’re too young to understand,” Harry states condescendingly.

            “You’re such a dick. I’m trying to figure out what we are but you’re not helping at all!” Louis complains, standing up and walking to the other side of the coffee table.

            “We aren’t anything, that’s the whole point of this, Louis. You clearly don’t understand that,” Harry states, rolling his eyes and looking across at Louis.

            “And you clearly don’t understand that I don’t want to be nothing,” Louis says quietly, crossing his eyes, looking away, and blinking quickly. Harry sighs, standing up slowly and grabbing his shirt from the ground, shrugging it on and buttoning it up. He walks over to Louis, wrapping his arms around him and bringing him against his chest. Louis quickly pushes him away, sniffing. “Sorry, we aren’t anything so we shouldn’t hug,” Louis mutters bitterly.

            “Now you’re just being unreasonable,” Harry complains.

            “You’re the one who agreed to come here and help me move, how is that nothing? You say you like me and enjoy being around me, but that’s nothing apparently,” Louis snaps, pausing and looking up at Harry. “You should probably get going,” Louis says quietly, pushing the fringe out of his face and looking down.

            “I’ll see you Monday, then,” Harry whispers, kissing Louis’ cheek as the boy turns away. Harry walks to the door, glancing over his shoulder and catching Louis’ eyes briefly, smiling to himself as he walks out.

 

\--

 

            Harry wakes up Sunday morning with a sense of melancholy lingering in his chest. He had dreamt of Louis, holding him in his arms and simply being with him. Harry sighs, looking up at the ceiling and pulling the covers closer to his chin. He closes his eyes for a few more moments, trying to talk himself out of what he’s planning on doing. With another sigh, he’s been sighing far too often lately, he rolls out of his bed and barely makes his way up to his feet. He trudges to his bathroom, rinsing off his face before heading to his closet. He pulls on a pair of gym shorts and a grey sweatshirt with a giant donut on the back. When he gets downstairs he grabs his keys and wallet, toeing his running shoes that are set neatly by the front door.

            Harry pulls his car up in front of the building, smiling quietly to himself. Right when he steps out of his car, flowers in hand, a small boy appears out of the building wearing one a robe. A man appears behind him, black slicked back hair, a short beard.

            “Thanks for dinner,” Louis says, smiling half-heartedly.

            “Thanks for dessert,” The mystery man says with a wink, pecking Louis’ cheek and walking into a car right in front of Harry’s. “Nice flowers,” He comments with a chuckle, looking over at Harry’s direction before climbing into his car and pulling away. Harry watches as Louis quickly walks back in side, combing his fingers through his messy hair. Harry drops his flowers into the curb of the street, the white roses quickly getting stained by the murky filth of the street. Harry climbs back in the car, slamming it behind him and gripping the steering wheel, resting his forehead against it.

            There’s a gentle knock on Harry’s window, and a soft voice cooing his name. “Harry, Harry,” Louis says softly, and Harry grits his teeth together.

            “Go away,” Harry grumbles, already feeling the embarrassment sinking in and feeling absolutely stupid. Why did he even bother coming here? And now Louis gets to witness his humility. His car door pops open when Louis realizes it’s unlocked.

            “I’m not going to see him again, I just needed someone,” Louis explains, looking in through the car door, debating whether to sit down or not.

            “Louis, can you please do me a favor and leave,” Harry mumbles, lifting his head up and looking straight ahead.

            “We’ll talk Monday?” Louis whispers, and after a few seconds of silence from Harry he just closes the door and steps away from the curb, watching him drive away.

            Harry looks in his rearview mirror to see Louis bending down and picking up the dirty white roses, holding them to his chest while heading back inside.

Harry feels venom coursing through his veins, jealousy. God, Harry is jealous. He doesn’t want to think about Louis’ lips on someone else’s or them touching him other places and oh god. Harry runs his hands through his hair, tugging on it and squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t escape the thought of Louis with someone else in that way. _With_ someone else.

 

\--

 

“We should talk,” Is the first thing Louis says while stepping into Harry’s office, locking the door behind him and sitting in the chair across from Harry, who is keeping his eyes glued to his laptop. “Harry, I don’t know what you want me to say,” Louis whines, scooting his chair closer to the desk and furrowing his brows.

“Like I said, we’re nothing. Do what you want,” Harry says quickly, not looking up from his screen. Louis reaches over, closing Louis’ laptop screen to earn himself a glare from Harry.

“If you didn’t care you wouldn’t have been coming to my flat to bring me flowers after our argument, Harry. Talk to me, for once, please,” Louis pleads, keeping his hands stretching on Harry’s desk while searching his face for any answers.

“Seeing you with him…” Harry starts, clenching his jaw and looking away. He sniffs once, blinking a few times before looking back at the boy with fond eyes.

“Are you jealous, Mr. Styles?” Louis questions, a smile tugging at his lips. Harry nods once, continuing to look over at Louis. “I’m not going to see him again,” Louis reassures, and Harry reaches out to grab Louis’ hands in his own and squeezing them softly.  

“I don’t want you seeing anyone else,” Harry admits, holding his breath as he feels Louis tense beneath his touch.

            “Then we’d be exclusive?” Louis questions, they let it linger in the air for a few minutes.

            “Exclusive make-out buddies,” Harry states.

            “I’ll take it, as long it’s not nothing,” Louis says, smiling. “Now come make-out with me on the couch, make-out buddy”

 

\--

 

There’s a soft knock at Harry’s office door. His eyes flick to the clock and it reads 8:46 p.m. There’s most likely nobody else on campus besides him, so who on Earth is knocking.? Before he can even utter the words, ‘come in,’ Louis steps in quietly. Harry’s eyes light up unintentionally when he sees the boy. He shifts his gaze back to his laptop screen while asking,

            “What are you doing here so late?” He feels Louis’ presence come closer, and the next time he looks up he’s sitting in the chair on the opposite side of Harry’s desk. He looks past Louis to notice he’s even shut the door behind him, an unnecessary precaution.

            “I needed some place quiet to study, and I wanted to see you.” Louis speaks softer than he normally does, he’s probably just tired.

            “And you assumed I’d be here? Do you not think I have a life?” Harry questions, holding back a teasing smile by pressing his lips together.

            “Well, you are here. So, I suppose that means you don’t have a life, Harry,” Louis says the last word with a smirk, resting his elbows on the table and letting his book bag rest on his lap. They stay still like that for a few moments. Louis’ chin propped up on his hands and Harry looking above his laptop.

            “Why don’t you pull that chair around and sit next to me, love. You did come here to see me, right?” Before Harry is even finished talking, Louis is already arranging himself next to Harry. Harry graciously scoots over and moves his laptop as well as the essays he was grading to allow Louis to set up his math text book and work on the desk.

            Louis settles in, but Harry scoots his chair to be closer to Louis. If they weren’t still exploring this whole idea of them being a ‘them’, he would have just pulled Louis right on his lap. This, however, will have to do for now.

            “Trigonometry?” Harry questions, peaking over to Louis’ side of the desk to gaze over his work.

            “It’s a combined, double credit class. It’s both trigonometry and pre-calc. I really despise being intelligent sometimes, then I have to take all the hard classes,” Louis complains, sticking out his bottom lip in seek of sympathy from Harry. And by sympathy, he means a quick snog session.

            Harry does not get the signal, and instead just chuckles at the younger boy. This leads to more pouting from Louis, and a new confusion for Harry.

            “Take note, if I stick my bottom lip out, that’s an opportunity for you to kiss me,” Louis explains matter-of-factly.

            “Is it too late now to, uh, kiss you?” Harry asks, as if he hasn’t even seen a pair of lips before. As if he wasn’t the one to make the first move. He feels so unexperienced in times like this but in reality he’s much more experienced than Louis. But it’s not every day that you have romantic relations with one of your students.

            “Shut up and kiss me, you fool.” Louis grabs Harry by the back of the neck, and closes the distance between their lips quickly. Harry takes control of the kiss, sucking on Louis’ bottom lip. One hand is securely on Louis’ thigh while the other is gently caressing his cheek. Suddenly, a creak comes from the hallway and they both snap away quickly. Harry’s eyes fall to the floor as he pulls his hands back onto his lap.

            “It’s not against any rules, you know,” Louis eventually says after a minute of silence. “I looked it up and I know you have as well. It’s frowned upon, but the university doesn’t say anything about it not being allowed. All we do is make out, anyway.” Louis’ trying to make Harry feel a bit better, but a weird feeling still claws at Harry’s inside.

            “It still feels immoral to me. I didn’t become a professor to hook up with students. I became one to share my knowledge and passion for literature with others.” Harry runs his hands through his hair, a habit that will most likely never fade.

            “I can’t speak for you, but I can for myself. I like you. A lot. And if you feel the same that means you not only are sharing your passion with the world, but you met some that you like along the way. Someone who shares your passion for literature, may I add.” Harry finally meets Louis’ eyes to see hopefulness fill them.

            “I like you too, Louis.” Harry barely hears himself say it, but he knows Louis does when his smile grows.

            “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I have some math to do. You seem to have a lot of papers to grade. Get back to work, you didn’t become a professor to snog students all day.” Harry can’t help but laugh. God, everything Louis says is amusing. It astonishes Harry that someone that amazing exists. It’s a light conversation for once that doesn’t result in arguing or fighting, light banter is all. Despite their angry words and awkward encounters earlier, he feels much more at ease now.

            Harry allows his hand to wander back onto Louis’ thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb, as he reads through another essay. As abnormal as their situation is, this feels normal. It feels good. Louis loves having Harry’s hand on his thigh with their chairs scooted as closely as possible, both of them doing work late at night. Louis even rests his head on Harry’s shoulder after a while to take a break in between math chapters. His eyes flutter closed, and then open briefly, then they close again.

            Harry gets an overwhelming feeling of fondness for Louis, watching his soft expression through the reflection of his own laptop screen. He wants to express it, express how deeply he cares about Louis despite his reluctance to admit it.

            “Louis?” He says softly, giving a squeeze to Louis’ thighs, as his eyes flutter open. “Look at me, please,” He says, his voice still soft. Harry’s turning his chair to face Louis, so Louis does the same with a questionable look on his face.

            Harry, ever so carefully, reaches out to cup Louis’ cheeks in his hands. Louis has a subtle smile as Harry leans in to kiss Louis’ nose, then each corner of his lips, then moving his hands away to kiss Louis’ cheeks. Louis lets out a soft giggle, more of a sigh. Harry rubs his hands all along Louis’ arms, unable to hide his fond eyes while looking at the small boy. His eyelashes flutter while looking down at Harry’s hands, then back up to admire Harry.

            “What’s up with all the kissing?” Louis giggles, scrunching his nose as Harry kisses it again. Harry keeps his face close, brushing his thumb across Louis’ bottom lip. “When I first walked in you could barely look at me, and now you can’t stop touching me,” Louis says, continuing to laugh.

            “’M just trying to show you that I care about you,” Harry says, smiling when Louis nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck, taking in the sweet scent. He smells of roses and vanilla, it smells of what could be his home.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry slowly pulls away, letting out a low breath with his hands still intertwined within Louis’ fringe and the petite boy still clinging onto him. Louis takes the opportunity to kiss along Harry’s neck instead, nuzzling his nose there.

            “What did you do with the guy?” Harry finally mumbles, holding onto the back of Louis’ neck and pulling his head to look at him.

            “Hmm?” Louis hums, raising an eyebrow with his legs still intertwined around Harry’s waist, the two close together.

            “You and the guy you went on a date with,” Harry mutters, holding the boys waist and poking there, making Louis squeal and giggle under Harry.

            “Stop, ‘m sensitive,” Louis whines, grabbing Harry’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “We had dinner,” Louis says simply, chewing on his bottom lip.

            “He slept over, Louis. It’s been bothering me not… not knowing,” Harry says, a slight whine in his voice as he holds Louis close to him and rubs his back.

            “We… we had sex. Okay? But it was meaningless, I don’t like him,” Louis says quickly, analyzing Harry’s face and watching it twinge with a bit of disgust. His nose scrunches up and he looks away. Louis sighs, holding onto the man’s shoulders and rubbing them. “Come on, Harry. He wasn’t good, his dick was small.” A small smile cracked upon Harry’s face and Louis kissed the corner of his lips. Harry pulls Louis into a deeper kiss, still unable to keep his mind from drifting to Louis with somebody else. Then he thinks of Louis with him, underneath him all warm and trusting, looking up at Harry with his round blue eyes. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to get too caught up and get hard in front of Louis again.

            “Louis…” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, heart beating a bit faster while holding onto the boys waist tenderly. “Would you want to get dinner sometime? I know a place outside of town,” Harry asks softly, Louis pulling back further to smile at the man.

            “A date?” Louis asks, running his fingers along Harry’s chest.

            “Two exclusive make-out buddies sharing a meal,” Harry explained, holding Louis gently.

            “If it’s a date I’ll go, if not I’m busy,” Louis says sassily, pulling his legs off of Harry’s lap and pulling them against his chest. He rests his chin on his knee, gazing over at Harry.

            “Fine, it’s a date,” Harry says reluctantly, a smile still tugging at his lips as he looks over at his boy. _His_ boy. He ponders that for a bit, and smiles.

            “What’s the smile for, goofy?” Louis asks, teasing and poking Harry’s shoulder.

            “My boy,” Harry says, wrapping his arms around Louis tightly and bringing him to his chest. Harry rests back on the couch, pulling Louis on top of him and holding him close. Louis blushes, hiding his red face against the man’s chest and closing his eyes. The words ring through Louis’ ears and it sounds like a lullaby. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, yeah? Have a nice night. Good food, good wine, good company,” Harry whispers, head buried in his neck as he speaks. He breathes in Louis’ scent, it smells of maple syrup and strawberries which reminds him of the taste of Louis’ lips.

 

\--

 

Harry pulls up in his BMW, parks outside Louis’ flat and takes a deep breath. He looks in the rearview mirror, staring at his reflection for a few moments before picking up the bouquet of roses and heading up the steps to Louis’ flat. He’s slightly out of breath when he reaches the top, he blames it on the fact that he’s nervous. He shouldn’t be this nervous, he’s spent a couple months making out with the boy. He knocks on the door and within a few moments Louis is swinging the door open with a smile. Harry’s numb in place, admiring Louis. He’s wearing a pair of dark, navy blue pants that are a perfect color for him. He has on a white button down and a dazzling smile. Harry decided to keep it simple with black dress pants and an emerald button down. He has a black blazer too, just in case it gets a bit nippy out.            He has a hat on however, hiding his face until they get out of town.

            “These are for you,” Harry says, looking at louis from under his hat, handing Louis to roses. He takes them into his hands delicately, pecking Harry’s cheek in appreciation.

            “Harry, you’re so sweet. Aren’t roses expensive? You don’t need to spend money on me,” Louis insists, but excuses himself to quickly put them in water in the largest cup he has since he doesn’t have a vase. He ends up having to use a bowl and sets a reminder on his phone to buy a vase tomorrow. Harry waits in the door way, watching Louis scurry around his kitchen from afar. Harry holds onto the small of Louis’ back when he comes back to join him.

            “We should get going. The restaurant is an hour drive away,” Harry suggests, guiding the boy to the stairs and walking alongside him.

            “Why of course,” Louis says, smiling and poking Harry’s stomach. “Loosen up, honey,” Louis coos, and Harry cracks a smile as they continue down the steps.

            “I want this night to be perfect, that’s all,” Harry confesses, holding his breath which is a mistake because by the time they’ve reached the bottom he’s on the verge of heaving. He can jog for hours but can’t go down a flight of stairs, he blames it on how breathtakingly beautiful Louis looks.

            “It already is perfect because I’m with you,” Louis says and it sounds like something straight out of a movie. It has probably been said in hundreds of movies, but when the words leave Louis’ lips it gives a whole new meaning to them.

            “You’ve got me in the palm of your little hand and we’re not even in the car yet,” Harry chuckles, opening up the passenger side door for Louis and helping him in. Louis slides in rather gracefully, admiring Harry’s moderately expensive car. Harry quickly gets in on his side, starting up the car. He puts his seatbelt on and makes sure Louis has his own on before backing out of the parking space.

            “If you weren’t driving I’d kiss you so hard right now,” Louis states as if it’s the most normal thing to say, looking over at Harry and smiling.

            “That’s a tempting offer, I may have to pull over,” Harry replies, smiling with all of his teeth showing. It’s a glorious sight to see.

            “But I’m also starting to get hungry. We can save the kissing for afterwards,” Louis says, and Harry tries to as casually as possible rest one hand on Louis’ thigh and keep the other one on the steering wheel. He really wants to touch Louis right now. Louis reacts by place his hand over Harry’s and looking out the window to admire all the scenery, mostly fast food signs but the lights they give off are beautiful as they blur by. Harry wishes he wasn’t driving so he could admire Louis more than just a few quick glances. The way the moonlight casts across his face, the shadows of his eyelashes looming down his cheeks. His pouty lips, looking kissable as always.

            “Someone could write millions of poems about how beautiful you are,” Harry finds himself saying. He was supposed to just be thinking it, but he finds the words flowing out of his mouth and sees Louis blush in the moonlight out of the corner of his eyes.

            “I could say the same about you,” Louis replies, slightly embarrassed from the compliment and feeling the heat on his cheeks. Harry squeezes his thigh and Louis squeezes his hand in return, not commenting when Harry slides his hand further up Louis’ thigh.

            “I’ll suppress the rest of my excessively sappy comments for the next date,” Harry promises, although he most likely won’t keep that promise. Harry turns on the radio to fill the silence, even though it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Harry circles his thumb against Louis’ trousers and sliding his hand up a few inches.

            “What inspired you to become a professor?” Louis asks, looking over at Harry with curiosity dwelling in his eyes.

            “Well, I wanted to share my passion for literature with others who felt the same as I did,” Harry explains briefly, and Louis can’t help but smile at the response.

            “Inspiring. Although, sadly, most college students don’t care much about literature,” Louis remarks, and Harry nods with a chuckle.

            “Yes, yes. Sadly, that is very true. But every now and then someone special comes along who’s passionate. I’ve only met one of those kinds of students but he truly is wonderful” Harry says. Louis blushes, pressing his lips together to refrain from smiling too big.  

 

\--

 

            They get to the restaurant in 45 minutes. Harry pulls up to the valet, pushing some bills into his palm before handing him the keys. He rushes over to Louis’ side, keeping his hand on his lower back while helping him out of the car. Harry keeps his hand there while walking into the restaurant. There are chandeliers and satin curtains, it looks like a castle on the inside. Louis looks up in awe, he’s never been in a place so spectacular. He’s just a small boy from Donny who only ever goes out to the local pub. They have table cloths and cloth napkins, the super fancy kind that’s embroidered with gold thread. It’s warm toned, and the lights are dimmed. There’s a pianist in a full tuxedo on a small stage in the corner across the room from them.

            “Reservation for Styles,” Harry says to the hostess, who smiles a bit too merrily.

            “Right this way,” She says, grabbing some menus, and leading them towards a booth with a window view of the city lights outside. They sit opposite of each other, and the hostess informs them that their waiter will be with them in a moment.

            The waiter comes, a handsome looking fellow and Harry immediately decides he doesn’t like the way he looks at Louis. It’s much too lustful. So, Harry reaches across the table and grabs Louis’ hands while ordering.

            “Just water with lemon for me and a bottle of….” Harry points to the most expensive champagne on the liquor menu. He’s not sure how to pronounce it and doesn’t want to ask for the ‘most expensive champagne you have’ since that’s incredibly tacky. However, Louis snatches the menu when the waiter leaves and scolds Harry.

            “If you pointed to what I think you pointed to than that’s far too much money to spend,” Louis complains, setting the menu back down and focusing his attention back on his menu.

            “Don’t worry about it, Louis,” Harry insists, reaching across the table to rub Louis’ hands with his own and the petite boy looks up from his menu.

            “I don’t want you to think you have to spend money to impress me. There’s literally a pianist here. I thought Outback was fancy, Harry. _Outback._ Where they serve a deep-fried onion as an appetizer,” Louis says, a hint of whine to his voice. Harry laughs a hearty laugh, having to cover his mouth to prevent from drawing too much attention.

            “Louis,” Harry starts, still grinning. “I want to spoil you. I’m doing this voluntarily. If I wanted to take you to Outback, I could,” Harry insists and Louis sticks out his bottom lip. Harry leans across the table to kiss Louis’ pouty lip, sucking on it softly until someone is setting drinks down in front of them. It’s the waiter who has his lips pressed together. Maybe he had some hope that Louis and Harry were only friends. Harry’s happy to burst his little bubble. The waiter also brought bread, the fancy kind as expected. It looks like rye bread with sesame seeds around it.

            “I love bread,” Louis says dramatically when the waiter leaves, grabbing a piece and taking a much too large back. Harry watches, amused, as Louis attempts to chew and then swallow the very large piece. “I now realize how unattractive that was,” Loui says, laughing after he swallows and taking a sip of his water.

            “You’re still cute, don’t worry,” Harry insists, pouring a glass of champagne for the both of them. Louis takes a small sip, smiling at how the bubbles dance around his tongue and down his throat. Harry only watches the boy in amusement, licking his lips quickly as he takes a sip of his own.

Louis reaches across the table to hold Harry’s hand. It’s a lot harder for him, shorter arms and all, but he still does. Harry extends his arm as well so they can meet somewhere in the middle. He’s holding Louis with one hand and his menu with the other.  

            Louis and Harry finish their first glass of champagne right before the waiter comes to ask for their order. Harry orders some French word, well it might be French since Louis honestly has no idea, for an appetizer that Louis doesn’t understand, and then orders their entrees for them while pouring another glass of champagne with one hand since his other one is occupied by Louis.

He looks intently at Harry, studying him. He notices the mole on his lower cheek and smiles. He studies the way his eyebrows form the perfect arch. The way his eyes are a darker emerald today to match his shirt nicely. His strong jaw bone. His pink lips, and remembering how dark they are after they’ve finished kissing. He meets Harry’s eyes again, and he can tell only by his eyes that he’s smiling. His eyes have this slight glow to them. Louis looks down at Harry’s mouth as sees that he’s right. He can’t help but smile back, nudging his foot against Harry’s under the table. Harry kicks back softly, small folds forming on the outer corners of his eyes. His smile takes up so much of his face that it’s squishing him, from the way his eyes crinkle and forehead wrinkles.

“I enjoy looking at you,” Louis finally says, after minutes of simply staring at Harry. Maybe Harry asked Louis what he was doing, Louis’ not really sure. He feels that it’s important to let Harry know that he enjoys looking at him, that can allude to him enjoying Harry in general. He enjoys Harry’s company, and everything about him.

The waiter interrupts them to place down these finger sandwiches that don’t look like sandwiches. They have hummus on them, Louis thinks it’s hummus. He’s not exactly a hummus expert. Lots of veggies accompany the hummus, so many veggies for such a little sandwich or whatever it is. Louis didn’t know finger food was fancy. Harry insists on feeding louis a piece, and almost decides to suck Harry’s fingers when he feeds him because he wants Lo. Right before he does, he’s reminded of where they are and also that he doesn’t want to send the wrong signals to Harry. He simple takes it from Harry’s fingers and pulls away.

“Do you like it?” Harry asks, and Louis nods even though he feels like he’s at a nine-year old’s tea party. Maybe that’s what’s fancy nowadays. Louis can’t complain, the food tastes good. Plus, he has Harry feeding it to him as if he’s a god.

By the time their done with the fancy yet not-so-fancy finger sandwiches, they’ve both finished another glass of champagne and Harry’s pouring another glass for both of them. Louis feels it a little bit, but not too much. Champagne isn’t heavy alcohol, is it? He’s not an alcohol expert despite sometimes drinking an excessive amount of it, but he’ll go with no.

Their main course comes; Louis is very much ready to stuff his stomach like a piñata with some pasta. Harry ordered what looks to be a linguine and tofu dish, but Louis’ not entirely sure. He doesn’t seem to be too sure about anything here when it comes to food. This is the part of the date where they stuff their faces and awkwardly make eye contact with pasta half hanging out their mouth, which is exactly what they do. One time, Harry makes the mistake of laughing and nearly chokes on his pasta. Which makes Louis laugh and actually choke on his pasta, his eyes are red and tears form with pasta spilling out of his mouth. He laughs more after he can breathe again, despite Harry’s genuine concern.

“Please, you can’t die now. I’m just starting to like you,” Harry teases when Louis finally recovers. Louis rolls his eyes almost immediately, dabbing off the marinara sauce with the cloth napkin. Louis almost feels bad for using it, it’s so crisp and white.

“Oh really, you’re only now starting to like me? That’s the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard, right next to your syllabus,” Louis says harshly, and Harry truly doesn’t know whether he’s kidding or not.

“I’m offended,” Is all Harry can say, furrowing his brows.

“You offended me first,” Louis retorts, a smile creeping over his face. Oh thank god, he was only kidding. Harry worked hard on his syllabus. “Now, I’m going to go back to eating,” Louis explains, shoving another forkful in his mouth. He manages to do it a bit more gracefully this time. Harry sips his water, laying off the champagne since he’s driving.

They manage to finish their meals without choking again. The waiter comes back to fill up their water glasses and hand them a dessert menu per Harry’s request. “There are so many options, oh my god,” Louis says, his eyes wide while scanning over the pages.

“No worries, love. Waiter?” Harry asks right before he turns to leave. The waiter forces a kind smile. “One of each, please,” He requests, taking the dessert menu from Louis to hand to the waiter. The waiter smiles sincerely this time, realizing how large his tip is going to be after all of that. Louis, however, kicks Harry under the table.

“What are you doing?” He exclaims, whisper yelling since they’re in public and he can’t be as loud as he’d like. Harry winces, reaching down to rub his shin in shock.

“Was kicking me necessary? What did I even do?” Harry complains, sitting up straight again while his leg throbs. Louis has quite a kick to him. He crosses his arms, purses his lips, and avoids Harry’s eye contact. “Louis,” Harry says, no response. “Louis,” Harry says, a bit more desperate. No response. “Louis.” Harry’s whining now, sighing. He slides out of his side of the booth, and slides in next to Louis who scoots away.

“I appreciate you spending money on me but I didn’t start this because I wanted a damn sugar daddy, Harry. And I know I sound ungrateful and I know you said you wanted to spend money on me but…. it’s too much,” Louis explains, luckily without Harry having to beg. When Harry reaches for Louis, he doesn’t scoot away which is progress.

“I want to spoil you a little bit,” Harry starts, leaning in and nipping Louis’ ears and whispering, “You’ll let me do that, right?” His voice is low and sends shivers down Louis’ spine, the good kind.

“Fine,” Louis mumbles. “In moderation, but ‘m not going to start calling you Daddy.” Harry chuckles, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist securely.

“I like spoiling you, mostly because you’re not a selfish prick who expects it,” Harry adds on. “And you shouldn’t rule out calling me Daddy so suddenly,” Harry teases, still keeping his voice low in Louis’ ear, and Louis laughs and smacks his shoulder.  Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek before starting to slide out the booth to his side. Louis grabs him by the hand, blushing.

“Sit with me?” He asks, and Harry grins with a nod. He securely wraps his arm back around Louis. “Sorry for being dramatic, I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.” Harry already is and he adores Louis for it. Him being dramatic leads to honesty, which Harry appreciates. Louis nuzzles his head into Harry’s neck, he smells like roses and vanilla.

The desserts come, and Louis insists Harry feeds them to him. He tries a bite of all of them, and Harry takes a few bites of the one Louis seems to enjoy. Louis stays close to Harry, their sides pressed against each other, Harry’s arm around Louis’ waist, Louis’ hand on Harry’s thigh as they sample all of the desserts. Eventually they get about five to go boxes and a special bag to carry them out in. This doesn’t seem like the place where one would take home their leftovers, but they do anyway. Harry settles the check, resulting in a few huffy breaths from Louis, but nothing a kiss couldn’t fix. Well, it took quite a few kisses as well as a quick make out session in the car after the valet brought it for them.

They hold hands on the ride home, Louis closes his eyes and listens to the hum of the car.

It’s peaceful. He decides to open his eyes so he doesn’t fall asleep and can admire Harry instead. Somehow, it’s 10:30. Which means they were at the restaurant for two hours, and they won’t get back in town until 11:30. Louis makes a soft comment about being cold, and Harry pulls the car over so he can give Louis his blazer and help him into it. Louis blushes, of course, and nuzzles into the softness of roses and vanilla.

            Time goes by quickly, and neither really wish it hadn’t. Before they know it, they’ve pulled up to Louis’ flat and Harry is helping Louis out of his car. They hold hands on the way up the steps, now finding ways to work in handholding since they won’t be able to do it in public unless they go out of town together. Louis keeps a hold of Harry’s hand when opening his door and stepping in it. Harry closes it behind him, and pulls Louis into his arms.

            “Crash here for the night, it’s late,” Louis mumbles into his chest, nuzzling there.

            “You sure?” Harry asks, kissing the top of Louis’ head.

            “Yeah, it’s just a sleepover.” Louis leads Harry to his bedroom, grabbing some sweatpants and a shirt from some drawers before shuffling into the bathroom while toeing off his shoes. When Louis emerges again, he’s in his change of clothes and Harry is in his boxers with his clothes neatly folded on the chair in the corner.

            “This is how I normally sleep, I’m always warm,” Harry explains, only sitting on the bed after Louis does.

            “I’m always cold,” Louis says with a smile, snuggling under the duvet, and covers. Harry follows, not certain where his boundaries are. Louis sets them by scooting close to Harry, feeling his warmth and bare chest. Harry wraps his arms around the boy, holding him close to him.

            “Thank you,” Louis whispers, and Harry’s not sure what it’s for. Louis kisses Harry’s chest, too lazy to scoot up to kiss his lips. He closes his eyes, and drifts off with Harry holding him snuggly. He feels safe. He falls asleep to Harry rubbing his back, his ear pressed against the man’s chest and listening to Harry’s heartbeat.

 

\--

 

            Louis wakes up happily, the sun pouring in through the drapes and Harry’s arms around him. Louis feels like he hasn’t seen the sun in a month due to the storms, now there is one outside and one in his bed. Harry’s already awake, he has been for hours. He’s used to waking up early, and spent his time watching Louis sleep. Which is creepy, but he’s so calm and endearing. His nose twitches sometimes, and he cuddles closer to Harry occasionally.

            Louis blinks away the sleepiness, and looks up at Harry and smiles lazily. He runs his hands along Harry’s toned chest, he was too tired last night to appreciate it but he has a six pack. God, he’s so fit. Louis stares for a bit longer before resting his head back on Harry’s chest.

            “Don’t wanna get up,” Louis mumbles, slinging a leg across Harry’s waist and Harry pulls him closer. He rubs up and down Louis’ thick thigh that’s now across his stomach, stopping right before his bum. He hears Louis’ breath hitch as he buries his face in one of his many fluffy pillows.

            “I could stay like this forever,” Harry whispers, kissing Louis’ forehead and squeezing the boys upper thigh. Louis tilts his head up, and sticks out his bottom lip. Harry smiles, immediately ducking down until their lips meet.

            “Your morning breath is horrendous,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips, but still opens his mouth to let Harry’s tongue in. Harry internally rolls his eyes, sliding his hands under Louis’ shirt to hold onto his lower back. They kiss sloppily for a few minutes until the rumbles in their stomach can no longer be ignored. Louis groans when Harry pulls away, sitting up and exposing his very messy bedhead. Harry sits up as well, smiling fondly and running his hand through Louis’ un-styled fringe.

            “I thought you said you didn’t sleep with someone on the first date,” Harry says, smirking and thinking he’s clever. Louis laughs out of pity, not that he thinks it’s funny or whatever.

            “You’re such a dork,” Louis mumbles, leaning in and resting his head on Harry’s shoulder for a few moments before scooting his way off the bed. “I’ll find something for us to eat, c’mon.” Harry follows behind closely, keeping a hand on Louis’ hip while they wander into the kitchen. Louis opens up some cupboards, most of them nearly empty. Then he remembers the fresh banana bread he made the other day that’s still in the fridge. He cuts it into pieces and pops it in the microwave while starting up the kettle. He turns around to see Harry watching him, leaning against the counter. Louis sniffles in Harry’s direction, then grabs some strawberries out of the fridge and begins slicing them into quarters on a cutting board with a little knife. A tiny knife for a tiny boy.

            “Can I help?” Harry asks, wandering closer to Louis, who shakes his head. Harry wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his chis on top of Louis’ head and watching him cut the strawberries carefully.

            “Having your bare body pressed against me is rather distracting,” Louis comments, reaching up into the cupboard for two bowls. He divides the strawberries evenly, and puts the halves in both bowls.

            “Sorry,” Harry replies, but has no intent to move as he watches Louis place the strawberries in the bowls. The microwave goes off, and Louis shuffles to grab the bread and place three slices in each bowl. It’s a lot, but Louis could eat the entire loaf if he wanted to. Harry finally let’s go when Louis has to walk across the kitchen for two mugs. He grabs two tea bags, placing one in each, and pours the boiling water over top of them.

            “Can you grab the mugs?” Louis asks, picking up the two bowls and walking out to the living room. He places them on the coffee table, and Harry follows soon after with the tea. Louis sits on the couch, and pulls the coffee table closer until it’s only a couple of inches away from the couch. Harry’s already taking a bite of the bread.

            “Wow, this is really good. Where’d you get it?” Harry asks as he bends his knees and Louis crosses his legs. Louis reaches for the remote, turning on the telly.

            “Oh, I made it,” Louis replies, flipping through the channels as he nibbles on a strawberry.

            “I didn’t know you could bake,” Harry comments. “It’s really good,” He says again, and Louis smiles and shrugs. Harry scoots closer to him, and Louis slings his legs over Harry’s lap. He picks up a piece of bread, and takes a bite.

            “Did you sleep well?” Louis asks after chewing.

            “Yeah, of course. You?” He slept wonderfully with Louis.

            “Yeah,” Louis nods, smiling and thinking how good it felt to be in Harry’s arms all night. He felt so safe and warm and cozy. He won’t say that, though. It sounds a bit too clingy in his head.

            They watch some crappy show about aliens abducting humans. When Harry gets creeped out, Louis crawls onto his lap and straddles him. He runs his hands down Harry’s chest, ducking his head down to kiss and lick over Harry’s chest. Louis leaves a couple of marks, working his way up to Harry’s neck until he’s nipping his ear. “Better?” Louis whispers coolly, and Harry nods quickly with his hands gripping onto Louis’ waist.

            “Much better,” Harry says with his signature soft smile as his hands rub up and down Louis sides.

            They spend the day holding hands, and kissing. There is a lot of kissing. They eat the leftover desserts throughout the day, feeding them to each other. When Harry has to leave for a meeting, Louis kisses him all the way to his car and waves at him as he pulls out of the parking spot in the clothes he wore the night before. It smells like Louis, and he can’t stop smiling for the entire meeting.


	11. Chapter 11

            Louis props himself on the side of Harry’s desk, swinging his legs while looking over at Harry who is grading papers aggressively while sitting in his chair. Louis leans himself back on his hands, scooting closer back to Harry’s hands until they brush against one another. Harry barely flinches, continuing to scribble notes on an essay. “Why don’t people know how to use semi-colons?” Harry grumbles, throwing his pen on the desk and leaning back, closing his eyes, and pinching the bridge of his nose. Louis swings his legs from the side of Harry’s desk to be facing Harry, nudging the man with his knee.

            “Maybe you need to get out sometime this week, a bit of a distraction from papers, yeah?” Louis says, licking his lips and smiling gently while looking over at Harry.

            “Maybe,” Harry grumbles, opening his eyes just barely to look over at Louis who has a gentle smile resting on his face. Louis pouts a little bit, puffing out his cheeks and swinging his feet a little. Harry reaches out to hold Louis’ knee, rubbing his hand up and down Louis’ thigh. “Our date was really nice, love,” Harry says gently, and Louis’ pout turns into a bright expression.

            “I really enjoyed it…” Louis says, waiting for something more from Harry, resting his own hand on top of Harry’s. Harry rolls his chair over to the left to rest in between Louis’ legs, leaning forward to kiss Louis on the tip of his nose. Harry slips his hands up to Louis’ hips, squeezing gently while Louis looks at him with soft eyes.

            “You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to, I’ll just be grading papers,” Harry says, Louis internally sighing.

            “I finished my work and I need _something_ to do,” Louis insists, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Harry chuckles at the pouty boy, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him onto his lap so that the boy is straddling him.

            “You can stay here and keep me company then,” Harry says, holding Louis close to him and kissing his cheek. Louis unwraps his arms from across his chest to rest them on Harry’s shoulders, soaking in the kisses from Harry as he peppers them along his cheeks, down his jaw bone, and all across his neck. They’re soft gentle pecks that gives Louis goosebumps and he can’t help but smile. Louis even lets his eyes flutter closed, whining when Harry stops and the man chuckles at him, pulling at Louis’ collar to press more kisses along Louis’ collarbone and upper chest. “You’re so pretty, sweet,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ skin, dragging his lips across the boys’ skin.

            “I think someone is a bit too distracted from their work,” Louis says, despite loving all the attention. He rubs Harry’s shoulder, watching Harry releasing the tension from underneath Louis’ hands. “Always so stressed, you really should get out to have a break,” Louis suggests again, wondering how much more obvious he needs to be before Harry asks him on another date. Harry presses his lips together, hiding his smile and shrugging.

            “I have a lot to do.” Louis sighs, pulling himself off of Harry’s lap.

            “I’m going to nap on your couch,” Louis mumbles, already curling up like a kitten with his head on a throw pillow. Harry tears his eyes away from Louis only to look back at his laptop, clicking on the tab he was on before Louis came in, purchasing the two tickets with a soft smile on his lips while looking back at Louis.

 

\--

 

            Louis blinks heavily, groggily looking around and feeling his hands around until he’s touching a person, he thinks it’s a person. He groans, squinting his eyes and trying to avoid any light, but he quickly discovers it’s rather dark out.

            “My sleeping beauty is finally awake,” Harry’s voice mumbles from behind him, and Louis turns around on the couch to be facing the man, their noses even brushing against one another. Harry kisses Louis’ lips once, bumping their noses together. “Why don’t I drive you home? It’s late,” Harry suggests, watching as Louis nuzzles into his chest.

            With a groan, Louis drags himself off the couch, swaying slightly while trying to gain his footing. Harry wraps his arm around the boy firmly, holding the boy until he steadies himself. Harry lets go of the boy as they both walk out, forcing themselves to keep a distance between them as they walk down the hall towards the back parking lot. They walk out into the crisp air, the only light from the moon and stars above. Harry looks around, squinting, before pulling Louis close to his side and feeling him shivering gently. Harry opens the passenger side of the door, helping Louis inside before getting in on the drivers side. Harry turns on the radio and ‘Secret Love Song’ by Little Mix plays quietly, and Harry reaches out to hold Louis’ hand and drive with the other.

Within a few minutes, Harry is parallel parking in front of Louis’ building, and helping the boy out of the car. “I’ll walk you to your flat,” Harry says, holding Louis close to his side and smiling when he snuggles against his side.

Before Harry can say anything, Louis pulls Harry into his flat and kisses the man against the door. Harry holds onto Louis’ waist, tugging the boy closer and closer to his front, as Louis reaches up to run his hands through the boys hair. When Louis begins sucking along Harry’s neck, Harry doesn’t tell him to stop this time. He allows him to suck a few trickling deep purple marks along his neck, Harry sliding his hands down onto Louis’ hips.

“It’s late, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis finally whispers, making a soft noise when Harry pulls the boy into a hug, holding him against his chest.

“Goodnight, love,” Harry says, kissing Louis one more time before walking out.

 

\--

 

            “You’ve barely been assigning any work, I have so much free time on my hands,” Louis hints, raising an eyebrow while he comes up to Harry after class.

            “That’s good, though. You have some time to get ahead in your studies,” Harry replies, holding back a smirk when he sees Louis’ obvious annoyance as he turns to head out the door without another word. Harry will just tease him a little bit longer before properly asking him on a date. Harry can’t help but gaze down at Louis’ bum swaying as he walks out of the door.

            Harry looks up at the empty classroom, unable to keep his mind from drifting to the memories of the first day of class fall semester. Louis sat right in front, electric and loud. A fond smile spreads across the man’s lips as he thinks back on it. They’ve come so far, and it feels less weird. Although it is weird that Louis, his student, is now a normal part of his romantic life. Harry doesn’t really mind.

 

\--

 

            “Kiss me hard,” Louis groans, quickly locking the door behind him and pulling Harry close to him who is already following orders, smashing his lips hard against Louis’. Harry’s gripping Louis’ waist, keeping him pressed up against the wall while sucking down on his bottom lip. He drags his teeth against Louis’ bottom lip as well, making Louis’ lips bright red. “Harry,” Louis whines, tilting his head to the side while Harry drags his mouth down Louis’ neck. Louis even traces the marks he left on Harry yesterday, pulling Harry’s shirt collar down to get a better look. Harry slides his hands down Louis’ lower back, stopping just for Louis’ bum as always despite only wanting to-

            “Just grab it,” Louis mumbles, leaning in to bury his face in Harry’s neck and nibble there ever so gently.

            “W-what?” Harry stammers, taking a break from leaving marks on Louis’ neck. Louis reaches behind him, grabbing a hold on Harry’s hands and sliding them down to rest on his bum, pulling away to give Harry a soft smirk. Harry rests his hands there for a few moments, bending down until their foreheads touch and they’re looking into each other’s eyes. Harry squeezes Louis’ bum firmly, the boy biting his lip while looking up at Harry. Harry kneads Louis’ bum with his hands, smirking when Louis buries his face in the mans chest to muffle his soft noises.

            “You like that, hmm?” Harry says gruffly, giving a light smack to his cheeks before firmly grasping them again. Louis whines, pulling himself away from Harry and having to adjust his pants. His face is flushed, eyes dilated, cheeks rosey, lips red.

            “I have class soon,” Louis says quietly, whining when Harry pulls him back against his chest. Harry kisses Louis’ pink cheeks, brushing Louis’ fringe back and fixing it. “Harry, please. You’ve already got me all flustered before class,” Louis whines, standing there while Harry combs through his hair and soaking up the attention.

            “Come back later to get some work done together?” Harry asks, letting Louis drift from his arms and to the door.

            “Of course, since nobody has made any _other_ plans with me yet,” Louis complains, hoping this time Harry will actually get the hint as he walks out of the door and heads off to class with a smile he can’t wipe off on his face.

 

\--

 

            “It’s only been an hour and I’ve already finished all of my work,” Louis whines, resting his chin on the desk and looking across at Harry who is still typing away on his laptop. Louis lets out another dramatic sigh. “If only I had some plans, my schedule is so open this week,” Louis points, about to scream _ask me on a date!_

            “That sucks,” Harry says, not looking up from his laptop and trying to hide his evil smile.

            “Forget it, text me when you’re not being a dick,” Louis mumbles, throwing his papers and laptop into his backpack and flinging it over his shoulder. He’s at the door when he finally hears Harry behind him.

            “Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” Harry starts, shuffling through his desk as Louis slowly drifts back until he’s standing in front of Harry’s desk. When Harry has the tickets in his hand he walks around the desk to stand by Louis, tugging the boy to face him. “I bought tickets to a fancy ball two hours north of here. Would you be my date?” Harry asks, smiling wide. “You’ve told me in about five different ways that you’re not busy, so you can’t say no,” Harry adds on.

            Louis smacks the man’s shoulder, “you tease!” Louis exclaims, still grinning. “You’re taking me to a ball?” He asks, eyes fond as he wraps his arms around the man.

            “Only the best for my love,” Harry explains, picking Louis up and setting him on the desk, standing between his legs that fall open and rubbing his hands up and down his thick thighs. “My pretty boy, aren’t you?” Harry asks softly, brushing the boy’s cheeks with the back of his knuckles.

            “Yeah,” Louis breathes out, melting into the man’s touch and his cheeks reddening deeper. He nuzzles his face into Harry’s chest and hiding his red cheeks there. He takes a breath through his nose, smelling the roses and vanilla and smiling to himself and Harry wraps his arms around him, pulling him gently closer.

            “I can’t wait to dance with you, baby,” Harry says softly, running his hands through the back of his head of hair and massaging his scalp with the pads of his fingers. Harry then proceeds to dance his fingers up and down Louis’ thigh, mimicking humans dancing, spinning and jumping his hands around. Harry admires his boy, studying the way his cheeks hollow out slightly, his arched and perfectly trimmed eyebrows, beautiful blue eyes, constellations of freckles on his cheek, all of his extravagant beauty. He can’t help but his mind wander to three simple words, that take him by surprise. Harry shakes it off, drawing his attention back to Louis instead of his feelings. Although, he can’t help but let his mind drift back to those three words.

 

\--

 

            “I don’t know what to wear, I only have one blazer but so many button downs and ties,” Louis whines, pacing and panicking the moment he lets Harry into his flat who is holding a bouquet of white tulips. Harry is dressed in an emerald green velvet suit, with a black button down underneath and shiny black dress shoes. “It’s going to be fancy and I’m a broke college student who can’t afford anything, oh my god,” Louis continues, quickly scurrying to disappear into his room once again. Harry quickly follows the boy to find him with his head in his closet, throwing clothes around recklessly.

            “Babe, it’s okay. Let me pick something out, okay?” Harry suggests, gently nudging Louis aside to go through Louis’ closet as Louis paces back and forth nervously behind him. Harry comes up with a deep blue button down with silver stars scattering across it, handing it to Louis along with his black slacks and blazer. “Put this on, love. You’ll look stunning as always,” Harry insists, stepping out of the room when Louis begins to pull his shirt off.

            Within a few minute Louis steps out fully dressed, looking slightly less frazzled while fixing his already perfect fringe. Harry’s placing the tulips he brought in the largest cup he can find, since Louis still hasn’t purchased a vase, with some water. Louis quickly walks over, pulling Harry to face him and pressing their lips together. The kiss is brief but sweet, just what Louis needs to calm him down.

            “Ready to go, love?” Harry asks, smiling at his beautiful boy, his universe with stars on his shirt and galaxies in his eyes. Louis lets out a breath, nodding and smiling up at Harry who takes his hand.

            Harry keeps his hand shielding his face and Louis looks down too until they reach Harry’s car outside, just in case. And then they’re on the road for quite a long time but, again, just in case.

 

\--

 

            The ballrooms’ ceiling is painted like classic Renaissance art, big grand columns and engravings along the art like a castle. The floors are made of marble, so shiny you can almost see your reflecting within them. There’s a large chandelier, seemingly as big as Louis’ flat, taking up the space of the high ceiling. There’s a large grand staircase towards the back of the huge room leading up to more private rooms and balconies. There are people dressed in ball gowns and elegant suits, swaying together and twirling along the ballroom. The music is soft and sweet, classic.

            Harry squeezes Louis’ hand, their fingers intertwined. Louis looks up at the man in response, eyes shining and lips curled into a smile. Harry pulls Louis towards the dance floor, filing through people until finding an empty space in the middle, the Harry takes one of Louis’ hands and bows down in front of Louis, kissing the boys hand and looking through his eyelashes to gaze at Louis. Louis giggles, blushing softly while curtsying before Harry pulls the boy to his chest, intertwining and holding one pair of their hands at shoulder height. His other hand holds Louis’ waist and Louis lets his spare hand rest on Harry’s shoulder. The pair sways gently to the music, feet stepping back and forth ever so slightly. Harry even spins them around a few times, slowly and gently. Harry can’t help but beam when Louis rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry rests his chin on Louis’ shoulder.

            “You’re the most beautiful person here, love. The belle of the ball,” Harry coos into Louis’ ear, who responds by squeezing the man’s shoulder.

            “You’re too good to me,” Louis whispers, flowing with the music. Harry’s mind drifts back to the three words, and he squeezes his eyes tight and focuses on Louis’ softness pressed up against him.

He pulls away from Louis’, holding their intertwined hands above Louis’ head and twirling the boy around, heart bursting with fondness while watching Louis’ crinkly eyed smile as he twirls. Harry then extends his arms, pushing Touis away with both of their arms outreach and hands intertwined. Then pulling Louis’ back against his chest with his arms wrapped around him by spinning Louis around in his arms. Now Louis’ back is against Harry’s chest, and Harry sways them side to side, the sound of Louis’ giggles more beautiful than the classical music playing. Louis turns around in Harry’s arms, looking up at the man and smiling gently. Harry cups Louis’ face, smiling softly and bending down to kiss the boys’ lips, sucking on his bottom lip softly before slowly pulling away. He keeps their faces close together, still gently holding onto Louis’ cheeks.

“Let’s go explore, hmm?” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear, already holding the curve of Louis’ back and leading him away from the dance floor. They ease their way through the crowd filled with dancing couples, and Harry leads them to the elegant staircase. They walk up side by side, Harry keeping Louis close with his arm wrapped around the boy. They pass by a few closed doors before finding one towards the end of the hall that’s cracked open, and Harry pokes his head in to make sure nobody is in there. They walk through the room, just as extravagant as the ballroom with a grand bed with an embroidered duvet. There are sheer sheets hanging from the ceiling and draping across the bed. Harry leads Louis to the double glass doors in the back of the room, bringing them out onto the balcony.

They both gaze to admire the most beautiful star, Louis looking at the sky and Harry looking at Louis. The music is faint and soft, still audible so Harry pulls the boy against his chest and swaying them to the rhythm of the music. Louis rests the side of his face against Harry’s chest, letting the beat of Harry’s heart guide him instead of the music. They drift around the balcony, spinning and holding each other closely.

“You’re so special, my star,” Harry says fondly, pulling away enough to tilt Louis’ chin up to connect their lips. Louis melts against the man like always, letting him lick his tongue into his mouth. He holds the back of Louis’ neck, keeping the boy close while twirling their tongues together, pulling back only to tug at Louis’ bottom lip with his teeth. Louis whines, flattening his palms on Harry’s chest while Harry leaves trails of wet kisses along Louis’ jaw bone.

Suddenly a bonging sound fills the whole ballroom and all of the rooms, Louis even jumps, only staying on his feet because of Harry’s tight grasp on the boy. Harry twists his wrist, checking his watch to see it’s already midnight. “Midnight…” Harry says quietly, looking up at Louis whose eyes are wide and bright. “They must have a grandfather clock somewhere,” Harry adds on, intertwining their hands and pulling them back inside. Harry can’t help but stare at the bed, wishing he could just lock the door and be intimate with Louis right now. But he reluctantly pulls Louis out of the room, the boy staying close to him and making soft noises whenever Harry squeezes his hand or pecks his cheek softly.

When they get down the stairs, there are only scattered couples still dancing, ones who don’t quite want to leave this moment behind them yet. Harry can relate as well, wishing he could just stay locked away in the present time with Louis and live in this fantasy forever. For now he’s content with having his little pixie cuddled up against his side as Harry hands their valet ticket to the nice gentlemen outside who runs in the direction of the parking lot. Harry keeps Louis close to him, sighing contently and kissing the top of his head.

Their car pulls up and Harry opens the door for Louis, pushing ten pounds into the valet’s hand while walking over to his side. Louis already has his eyes drooping when Harry gets in the car, looking over at the man and smiling gently. “Harry,” Louis says quietly, their faces very visible in the dark of the night.

“Yeah, baby?” Harry responds, keeping his voice quiet while reaching out to grab Louis’ hand. Louis leans across the seat, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder and letting his eyes shut. Harry tries to keep his movements to a minimum, keeping the steering wheel steady while on the highway. “My sweet boy,” Harry whispers, letting the sound of Louis’ soft breathing guide him home.

Harry brings them back to his place after realizing he doesn’t have a key to Louis’ place, and the boy is asleep. He really doesn’t want to wake him, he looks so sweet and calm in the moonlight. So, when they finally get to Harry’s house, Harry picks Louis up delicately bridal style and carrying him to his house. Harry takes his time walking up his staircase, trying not to wake the boy who is snoring quietly. When they finally get to his bedroom, Harry lays him down carefully. He unbuttons the boys shirt tentatively, finding his old Rolling Stones shirt to carefully pull it over the boy. He takes Louis’ shoes off, leaving his trousers on, worried about breaking any boundaries. Harry himself strips down to just his boxers, lying in bed next to Louis and pulling the covers over the both of them. “Goodnight, my love,” Harry whispers, wrapping his arms around Louis and breathing in his sweet scent.

 

\--

 

            _“C-careful, Harry- oh god,” Louis whines, throwing his head back against the pillows and gripping the sheets behind him, feeling the stretch between his legs. Harry leans down to kiss the boy, holding his waist while pressing in deeper into the boy._

_“You feel so good sweetheart, ‘m gonna take care of you,” Harry says softly into Louis neck, groaning while feeling Louis’ tightness around him. Harry reaches down to hold onto the boy’s bum, in awe of the boy wriggling and whining beneath him. “I’ll make you feel so good,” Harry promises, nipping down Louis’ necks and shifting his hips._

_Louis squeezes his thighs around the man, pressing his hips down and whining. Wanting, needing him to move and-_

            Louis’ eyes snap open, his heart racing and his dick half-hard in his pants. He tugs at his trousers, breathing heavy when an arm wraps around his waist and pulls him close. Louis lets out a squeak, sitting up and turning to look down at Harry, sighing relief. “Did we have sex last night?” Louis asks softly, his face flushed while looking down at Harry whose face is buried between two pillows and his hair scruffed up.

            “No,” Harry says, chuckling and wrapping his warm arms around Louis and pulling him back against his chest.

            “I had a dream we did,” Louis mumbles, not sure whether he wants Harry to hear it or not. He does, though, stroking his hands through Louis’ hair.

            “Yeah, what… what were we doing?” Harry asks, and Louis rests his chin and the man’s buff chest to look at Harry while blushing.

            “Well… we were on that nice bed at the ballroom last night. I was lying on my back with you in between my legs and-“ Louis pauses, looking around at the room he suddenly realizes is unfamiliar to him. “Where are we?” Louis asks, looking back at Harry whose pupils are dilated.

            “My house, love. You fell asleep on the car ride home and I didn’t have your key or anything,” Harry explains, licking his lips and smiling at the boy on his chest. He’s waiting for Louis to continue telling his dream, but instead he just nuzzles into the man’s bare chest.

            “Since midterms start Monday, I was thinking maybe you could come over on Friday when they’re all done. I can cook us a nice dinner, baby,” Harry proposes, and Louis looks back up at him to smile.

            “I would really like that, Harry,” Louis says, smiling and dropping his head to suck a hickey on his chest before nuzzling back against Harry’s side. Harry wraps both of his arms around Louis, tugging him so he’s fully lying on top of it. Louis giggles, nuzzling their noses together before dropping his head to kiss Harry. Harry reaches his hands down to squeeze Louis bum gently, grinning when he jumps and squeals.

            Louis reaches back, grabbing Harry’s hands and pinning them above Harry’s head. Louis quirks an eyebrow, and Harry smirks. He rolls them over, Harry hovering over Louis and pinning his hands down now instead. Louis wiggles around underneath Harry, huffing out. Harry runs his hands along Louis’ body, squeezing his sides and dancing his fingers along his tummy, tickling him.

            “Harry!” Louis gasps, using his now free hands to try to push Harry off of him, writhing and laughing, his sides and cheeks hurting. Harry slows his hands, beaming down at the flustered boy.  “’m sensitive. Harry,” Louis whines when he gets his breath under control, chest still rising and falling heavily with Harry’s Rolling Stones shirt covering it.

            “I bet you are sensitive, sweet,” Harry says, grinning and dropping down to mold his lips against Louis. “My boy…” Harry coos, feeling the fondness blossom in his heart when Louis lets out a soft sound, wrapping his arms tightly around the boy and holding close. It feels more and more like home every time.


	12. Chapter 12

            “So, today I have my Eastern Humanities midterm, which is easy because it’s all ancient Indian art which I’ve been intrigued by since I was a boy. Tomorrow is Microeconomics which has been challenging to me but I’ve been keeping up with all the concepts and understanding them all pretty well so… a study session tonight and one in the morning should be plenty,” Louis explains, tapping his fingers on Harry’s desk while looking across at the man.

            “You don’t seem so stressed like you normally are, that’s good, love. If you need me to help in any way, let me know,” Harry says, smiling over at Louis. Louis shrugs, pulling a humanities text book out of his bag, flipping through a few diagrams that describes how to identify which time period the art is from. Some last minute touching up before his midterm, which he knows he’ll ace. “I can stay here as long as you want this evening, be here to help you study,” Harry adds on, chewing at his bottom lip.

            “I’d like that,” Louis says, looking up from his textbook to smile at Harry. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to be here reviewing until my exam,” Louis explains, sinking down into his seat and continuing to study the various diagrams in the textbook. Harry looks up from his laptop to admire the boy. His long eyelashes, pink lips, and slightly caved in cheeks that show off his cheekbones.

 

\--

 

            “Harry, my professor put things on the midterm that we didn’t even learn in class! It was far beyond the time period we were studying and- and oh my god I failed it,” Louis starts rambling, shoving his fingers into his fringe and tugging while pacing around the man’s office. Harry tries to grab the boy to comfort him, but Louis walks past all of his attempts. “I’m valedictorian, I can’t mess up, Harry. I can’t, oh my god,” Louis whines, tears welling up in his eyes while he continues to pace. All Harry can do is stand there and watch him, eyebrows scrunching up. “I don’t know what to do,” Louis whimpers, finally stopping his pacing and sitting on the couch, hiding his face in his hands, slouched over. Harry sits next to Louis, pulling him against his side and humming sweetly. Harry rubs his hands up and down Louis’ back, kissing the top of his head.

            Louis nudges Harry away, fisting his tears away with the back of his hands. “I have to study for microeconomics,” Louis mumbles, reaching into his backpack to pull out his econ textbook. Harry sighs quietly, slinging his arm over Louis’ shoulder. Louis shrugs Harry’s arm off of him, flipping through his textbook.

            “Alright, well, since you’re not going to let me help I’m going to go get ready for my class,” Harry states, pressing his lips together and sighing while gathering his satchel and heading out the door, leaving behind the stressed and upset Louis.

 

            Harry comes back to Louis still in his office, but he’s rummaging through all of his desk drawers, sitting in Harry’s nice spinning chair. “What are you doing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow and still slightly bitter from earlier.

            “Trying to find food but all I found was a couple of mints and a condom,” Louis mutters, not looking up while opening another drawer. “I ate the mints,” Louis adds on, rustling through more papers and random knick-knacks.

            “I have to start grading these tests,” Harry says, watching as Louis scurries from behind the desk to the chair on the other side. Louis flips open his textbook again, pretending to read through it while stealing glances up at Harry every few moments.

            “Harry?”

            “Yeah?” Harry asks, not looking up from the red pen marks he’s making on papers.

            “I like you,” Louis whispers, and Harry slowly looks up, letting just the tiniest smile show. “A lot,” Louis adds on.

            “You’re so frustrating sometimes, but god, I like you too,” Harry says, and Louis smiles contently, mind at ease now that he knows Harry is no longer angry. He lets his head drop again, actually studying his economics text book this time. Harry gazes across at him, shaking his head and realizing he’s never going to be able to be mad at this boy. He pushes back his feelings, trying not to get too emotional while turning his attention back to the tests he’s grading.

            Louis gets peckish around three, making Harry go out and buy them Chinese take-out. They spend the rest of their afternoon partly working on school work, and the majority making out and feeding each other Chinese food with chopsticks.

 

\--

 

            “Fuck my ass,” Louis mutters in distress, flopping down on Harry’s office couch. _Okay!_ is the first thing that pops in Harry’s mind to say, but he bites his tongue and sits on the edge of the couch and offering a comforting rub along Louis’ shoulders.

            “Was your econ test hard?” Harry asks, pressing his lips together in a soft frown when Louis nods, his face smooshed against the cushions. “I’m sure you still did wonderful, you studied lots. I even quizzed you with flashcards and such and you got them all right!” Harry says optimistically, and all he hears is a groan from Louis. “Well, you have your film studies midterm soon, yeah? So, I’ll let you be to study that and we can just get together after your midterm tomorrow. No more distractions,” Harry insists, and Louis slowly pushes himself up, the boy frowning. Harry kisses Louis’ pouting lip. “Can’t wait until our romantic evening Friday night, yeah?” Harry says, smiling and slotting his lips against Louis’ and moving them together for a few seconds of sloppy kissing before pulling back away.

            “Well I suppose I’ll be heading off to the library, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis says breathily, smiling at Harry while walking out and grabbing his backpack by the door.

 

\--

 

            Harry’s sitting on the couch, the back of Louis’ head resting on his lap with his eyes closed. Louis’ knees are bent, tucked slightly. Harry is looking down at his boy’s face, running his fingers gently through the his hair. Louis’ eyelids flutter open briefly, squinting up at Harry and smiling ever so slightly before closing his eyes once again. Harry strokes up and down Louis’ cheeks and sides of his face, leaning down to press a kiss to Louis’ forehead. Louis pokes his bottom lip, his eyes still closed, and Harry takes the signal and kisses Louis’ lips gently. Louis sighs contently, slinging his arms behind the man’s neck and moving their lips together subtly.

            “I can’t wait to eat a nice dinner with you on Friday… maybe have some wine if we’re feeling frisky,” Louis says, wiggling his eyebrows and blinking his eyes open to look up at Harry who is still hunched over him. Their noses barely touch. “Snuggle up on the couch, kiss, maybe…” Louis stops, biting his bottom lip and letting his tired eyes droop closed once again.

            “Maybe,” Harry whispers, smiling and ducking further down to kiss the boys neck and nuzzle there. He squeezes his eyes shut, embracing this for just another moment before pulling back and slumping against the couch. “Take a nap, love. I’ll wake you up in an hour and we’ll get back to work,” Harry promises, Louis already snuggling more against Harry’s nap. Harry quickly sets a timer on his phone before letting his head fall back himself. His eyes shut, hands still stroking gently through Louis’ hair as their breathing steadies.

 

            Harry blinks his heavy eyes until they’re open fully, reaching for his phone and shutting it off. He groans, looking down to see Louis’ looking as peaceful and sweet at ever. Harry gently rubs his cheek for a few moments until the boy’s eyelids flutter open, and his tired eyes are looking up at Harry. “Hi, my sweet. Ready to do some studying?” Harry asks sweetly, and Louis whines.

            “No,” Louis mumbles, hiding his face in Harry’s stomach. Harry chuckles wrapping his arms around the boy and lifting him up, holding him to his chest as Louis still lays limp like a ragdoll. “Wanna sleep forever,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s chest.

            “I know, baby. You can do that after midterms, though, okay?” Harry asks in a soothing voice, rubbing the boys’ back before sitting him up next to him. “Now, pull out your textbook and start studying. You’re almost done,” Harry reassures, kissing the boys’ cheek before making his way back to his desk to begin grading more papers and midterms. Louis listens to him, pulling out some flashcards and textbooks, and Harry can’t help but feel a bit smug.

 

\--

 

            Louis walks into Harry’s office Friday around noon with a bright smile, dropping his backpack and running up to kiss Harry. Harry makes a surprised noise, but quickly leans into the kiss and wraps his arms around Louis’ tiny waist.

            “I’ll pick you up at six tonight, is that okay, love?” Harry asks, keeping Louis held up against him.

            “Sounds perfect, can’t wait to get a proper tour of your house since last time I was basically sleeping the whole time,” Louis says, smiling and resting his hands on Harry’s broad chest. “I better run to my flat and get ready and such,” Louis responds with a soft smile, pressing one final kiss on Harry’s lips before drifting away and out the door.

 

\--

 

            Harry grabs Louis’ hand, helping him out the car and intertwining their fingers while walking up to the front door. Louis looks at Harry’s house properly for the first time, it’s quite big for someone living alone. A grand two-story red brick home with white columns holding up a little section above the front door, rose bushes in front and a quaint white picket fence. “I bought it when real estate prices were plummeting… I thought I would have started a family relatively quickly after but,” Harry shrugs, pressing his lips together and looking over at Louis who awkwardly smiles. A family, quite the commitment, the thought intimidates Louis. But he brushes it off and leans into Harry when they step inside.

            It’s rather homey. The walls painted a warm beige and a fireplace in the lounge. A big plushy couch, maroon wood floors, large bookcases filled with worn books. Over to the right is the kitchen, with stunning granite countertops and sleek appliances. The dining room consists of just a large, red wood table and a marble sculpture.

            “The lasagna is in the oven and will be another thirty minutes. I added my own twist with the recipe, layering it with a vegetable blend instead of meat as well as a couple other secret surprises,” Harry explains, watching as Louis slowly trails around his front room area. “Would you like to see my backyard? There’s a lake and at night it’s quite magical,” Harry suggests, and Louis looks back to nod with a smile. Harry steps to meet him and wraps his arms around the boys’ slender waist and leading him through the backdoors. Harry flicks a light switch before stepping out, which lights up twinkling lights in the canopy of trees above. The lights and stars fill up the sky within the gaps between the drooping trees, and Louis looks across the expanse of grass to see fireflies flickering and fluttering above the water. Louis gasps quietly, shivering slightly and leaning into Harry and his warmth. Louis tilts his head up to look at Harry, and Harry ducks down to press a soft kiss against Louis’ lips, barley brushing over them.

            “Let’s get inside, love. You’re already shivering,” Harry insists, already leading them back inside, Louis looking over his shoulder one last time at the lights before Harry leads him to the couch. While Louis gets settled, Harry disappears into the kitchen. He comes back with a bottle and a couple of wine glasses.

            “I was thinking we could just stick with sparkling cider for now, this one is quite lovely,” Harry suggests, pouring them both a glass of the bubbly, non-alcoholic drink. Louis can’t help but smile, trying to hide it while lifting the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I’ll get the fire started,” Harry says, back on his feet and kneeling in front of the fireplace and messing with some firewood. Louis watches, eyes glowing slightly when there’s finally a flame. Harry comes back to join him, sitting in the corner and Louis crawls closer to mold himself against the man’s body. Harry wraps his arm around him snuggly, rubbing up and down his arm. They boy take small sips of their bubbly drink, content.

            “This time fall semester, you would still come into my office screaming,” Harry comments, out of the blue, and Louis cranes his neck to look up at him.

            “That’s the past, and this is now. And the present is so much better,” Louis says sweetly, and Harry smiles fondly at him. “Also all my reasons for yelling at you were valid,” Louis adds on, and Harry opens his mouth to say something but the oven beeps.

            “Saved by the bell, you brat,” Harry growls teasingly, kissing Louis’ temple before sliding away and once again disappearing into the kitchen.

Louis turns around on the couch, looking over the back and watching Harry set up the lasagna on the table, cutting pieces very carefully and putting them on nice china. Louis stands up, walking over to Harry who pulls a chair out for him. Harry sets a plate in front of him as well as a fresh glass of sparkling cider and some water with lemon. Harry takes a seat beside Louis, picking up his fork and already digging in.

“This is amazing, you’re quite the cook,” Louis compliments, licking his lips when Harry’s hand reaches below the table to hold Louis’ thigh.

“I enjoy the domestic life,” Harry chuckles, and Louis briefly glances at him before taking another bite. Louis focuses on the hand on his thigh, and the yummy food in his mouth, and the wonderful man by his side.

They eat rather quietly, quick pecks and soft touches are all that really interrupt the meal. They both go back for seconds, Harry scooping it up for the boy and refilling the cider glasses a couple times. When Louis’ all done and full, he rests a hand on his stomach and his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Dessert?” Harry asks, and Louis rubs his hand along Harry’s arm.

“Why don’t we move our way to the couch for some dessert?” Louis suggests, biting his bottom lip and looking up at Harry through his eyelashes.

 

Louis has his legs slung over Harry’s, and his arms loosely slung around Harry’s neck. Harry leans in and rests his forehead against Louis’, smiling fondly at the boy. Harry likes being close with Louis. He loves it. He loves feeling his aura, and holding onto his constantly colds hands. Harry likes kissing the cold hands and warming them up. He likes holding onto Louis’ dipped in waist, squeezing there and watching Louis squirm. He likes the way Louis melts when he rubs his lower back. He loves rubbing Louis’ thick thighs, squeezing there as well and seeing Louis’ lips part and sigh secretly. Harry’s train of though is interrupted when Louis whines, craving attention. Harry chuckles fondly, cupping Louis’ chin with a hand. Without hesitation, Harry presses his lips against Louis’ and Louis lets out an approving sound. Louis situates himself so he’s straddling Harry’s lap, then nuzzles his bum on Harry’s lap and wraps his legs around Harry’s waist.

            “Clingy today, hmm?” Harry asks briefly before pressing his lips back up against Louis’. Harry cups the back of Louis’ head, while Louis grips Harry’s biceps. Louis’ tongue finds its way into Harry’s mouth, and vice versa. Louis moans quietly into Harry’s mouth. Harry cups Louis’ bum to support him as he lays Louis down on the couch, and holds himself over him. Louis’ legs are still wrapped around Harry’s waist. Louis’ hips stutter upwards, grinding against Harry as Harry grips Louis’ hips. Harry bites down on Louis’ bottom lip, and another noise escapes his mouth. Harry slowly pulls away, dragging his teeth down Louis’ lip. When he pulls away, he looks down to see Louis with parted puffy lips and blown pupils.

            “Louis…” Harry starts, his voice raspy, as his eyes rake across Louis’ body beneath him.

            “I want to, Harry,” Louis says softly, looking up at Harry with round eyes. Harry rubs his hips, and continues to rub slowly up his waist.

            “You sure?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes locked with Louis’. Louis nods quickly, already tugging at Harry’s shirt. Harry then notices Louis’ bulge, and acknowledges his own hard on pressing against Louis’ thigh. He obeys Louis’ request, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side.

            “You’re so fit,” Louis whines, running his hands down Harry’s abs and pecks. He lets his fingers drag down the ‘v’ of Harry’s toned stomach, dipping below Harry’s waistband and tugging there next. Harry chuckles, unable to deny Louis. He kicks off his boots, and quickly rids himself of the black jeans. Louis whines again, propping his back up on the arm of the couch. He lets his hands wander. Holding Harry’s hips, then dragging fingertips across the waist band, slowly drifting down, ghosting over Harry’s bulge. Harry watches him explore intently, holding his breath with his jaw locked. Finally, Louis rubs his knuckles against the bulge and then his entire palm. Harry moans, of course. Going from standing upright on his knees to hovering over Louis, pulling Louis’ shirt off roughly. His hands immediately go to Louis’ nipples, flicking them to get Louis even more riled up. It works, because he soon starts to squirm beneath him.

            “I can’t wait to wreck you,” Harry practically growls, attaching his lips to Louis’ left nipple and sucking. His lips travel down Louis’ stomach, leaving marks along the way, until he reaches the waist band of Louis’ jeans.

            “Lift up your hips, baby,” Harry asks sweetly, still a hint of roughness to his voice. Louis obliges, lifting his hips as Harry peels the jeans of Louis’ arse and eventually tossing them along with the other clothes after taking Louis’ shoes off for him.

            “Want me to touch you? Get you all worked up then fuck you until you come?” Louis whines, and Harry takes it as a yes. “Can you come untouched?” Harry asks, genuinely curious but also using it as dirty talk material.

            “If the one fucking me is good,” Louis purrs teasingly, licking his lips, snapping out of his compliant state to say one of his signature sassy lines.

            “D’you think I’ll be able to make you come untouched?” Harry asks, simply placing his hand over Louis’ clothed prick. He uses his other hand to still Louis’ hips, preventing him from grinding into his hand. Louis whines in frustration, letting out a sigh as Harry awaits an answer.

            “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” Louis chirps, and Harry removes his hand. “Now let me see your cock,” Louis requests. It’s a request Harry can’t deny. He pulls off his boxers, his hard cock bouncing up. It’s large. Not one of those scary monster dicks that haunt your dreams, but pretty close. Like the runt of a monster cock family. Still big.

            Louis tugs at Harry’s hips, and opens his mouth. God, it’s such a beautiful sight as Harry shuffles himself higher above Louis and closer to his mouth. Louis’ just there, mouth open with those pretty lips and pretty eyes, begging to be fucked. When he’s finally shuffled close enough, it’s hard to do on your knees while on a small couch, Louis grabs the base of Harry’s cock and wraps his lips around the head.

            “My god, Louis. You’re so hot, wanna fuck your mouth,” Harry practically pleads as he grips onto the back of the couch behind Louis’ head for support. Louis’ hands move from the base of Harry’s cock to his hips, allowing him to take control.

            Harry’s hips stutter forward into Louis’ mouth until his cock is halfway in. Louis’ lips are stretched around it, his tongue rubbing against it as he suckles. He even hums, sending vibrations through Harry’s cock that are too good to be true. Harry barely has time to moan before Louis is squeezing Harry’s hips, wanting more. Harry hesitates, but Louis looks up at him with those crystal blue eyes. With a groan, he’s pushing his cock into Louis’ mouth until it hits the back of Louis’ throat. There’s still an inch or so exposed. Louis gags around Harry’s dick, and the way Louis’ throat muscles constrict around his cock feels better than heaven. A few tears roll down Louis’ cheek, and Harry wipes them away with shaky hands as he tries to control himself from being too rough with Louis.

            “You’re so hot, Louis. Your mouth feels so good, baby,” Harry praises, wanting Louis to know just how good he’s doing. Louis moans in response, which creates even more pleasure for Harry. It’s so overwhelming that he has to pull out of Louis’ mouth, leaving Louis in a daze with wet eyes. Harry rubs his thumb across Louis’ bottom lip as Louis looks up at him with glassy eyes and parted, even puffier, lips.

            “Can you take your boxers off while I grab the lube from the side table?” Harry asks softly, sitting on his heels to be closer to Louis’ level. He’s getting to see Louis’ bare ass for the first time, and he’s not quite sure he’s ready since he just touched it for the first time the other day. Louis nods, already making a move for his boxers. Harry gets up, rummaging through the side table and grabbing the two items he was looking for. When he gets back to Louis, he’s splayed out on the couch with his legs spread for Harry. His hands are in between his thighs, rubbing his own rim as he waits for Harry to position himself between his thighs. “Christ, Louis,” Harry groans, crawling back on the couch and kneeling between Louis’ legs. He’s so submissive, wanting to take everything Harry gives him.

            Louis retracts his hand and rests it on his knee, shifting his hips nervously. Harry rubs his hands along the inside of Louis’ thighs in attempts to comfort him. “You’re okay, baby. M’gonna take care of you. You know that, right?” Harry asks, continuing with his gentle strokes on Louis’ smooth skin.

            “Yeah, of course I know. First times with people are always a bit weird.” Harry nods in agreement, and Louis lets out a soft breath. “M’tight, are you going to finger me or just keep looking at me?” Harry laughs breathily, pouring some lube onto two fingers.

            “Yeah? You’re tight for me?” Harry goes back to his dirty talking as he circles his index finger around Louis’ hole. Louis curls his toes in anticipation, and gripping onto the sides of his thighs. He watches Harry intently, wanting to beg him to push it in.

            “So tight, please…” Louis whines, wiggling his hips down and spreading his legs a bit farther. Harry doesn’t hesitate to nudge the tip of his finger into Louis’ hole. Louis’ digging his teeth into the inside of his lip, waiting for more. Harry gives him more, slowly easing his lubed up fingers past the tight rings of muscles. When his index finger is fully pressed in, Harry leans down to kiss Louis’ thigh where his fingernails are digging in at. He uses his other hand to gently pry off Louis’ hand from his thighs, and begins kissing the small nail marks as he slowly drags his finger halfway out and pushing back in quickly.  A breathy sigh comes from Louis’ lips, and he drops his head back and closes his eyes.

            “You feel so good around my finger, can’t wait to see you feel around my cock. Probably going to come so fast, but not before you come untouched. Isn’t that right baby?” Harry doesn’t get a proper response from Louis, nor was he expecting one. But as he was talking he managed to nudge in a second finger. He talked in hopes of distracting Louis, but whimpers are flowing out of him. It burns, but it feels so good knowing that they’re Harry’s fingers inside of him. Knowing that makes his cock tingle, his hole spasm around Harry’s fingers slightly. Harry senses the discomfort, noticing Louis’ furrowed brows and how his eyes have snapped open.

            “Been awhile, baby?” Harry purrs, wanting a response but not expecting one. Louis nods, opening his mouth and trying to form words.

            “Didn’t want anyone but you since we first met,” Louis mumbles, bouncing his hips down against Harry’s fingers since they’ve been still for far too long.

            “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one,” Harry says with a smile, and begins thrusting his fingers slowly after seeing Louis’ desperation. “D’you need another finger?” Harry asks, feeling Louis finally loosen up around him. At first, Louis shakes his head. Then, he looks down at Harry’s cock and nods. “Please, one more,” He says softly. He loves being filled, and Harry’s fingers are so long and thick, he loves how good they feel dragging inside of him. Harry chuckles at his response, pulling his fingers out fully and hushing Louis’ whines. He lubes up his three central fingers, and begins pressing them all into Louis’ hole. Louis lets his head rest back again, fluttering his eyes closed and letting little squeaks out as Harry stretches his hole out more and more. The burning is more prominent than before, but Louis likes it. he digs his heels into the couch beside Harry, squeezing his eyelids closed tightly.

            “Does it hurt?” Harry asks, noticing Louis’ furrowed brows again.

            “I like it,” Louis reassures, and wiggles his hips to urge Harry to push in further. Harry does, of course, until his fingers are completely tucked inside Louis. He curls his fingers, rubbing along Louis’ walls until there’s a gasp.

            “Is that your special spot, honey? Right here?” Harry asks as he thrusts his fingers against it roughly. Louis lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a squeal and a moan as his thighs reflexively try to clamp together. They clasp onto Harry’s waist, squeezing him and giving him very little room to work with. He manages though, starting a steady rhythm of thrusts aimed toward Louis’ prostate. Breathy moans and whimpers fill the room, and his thighs squeeze onto Harry tighter.

            “Harry, Harry please. M’gonna come,” Louis begs, not knowing what he’s begging for. Harry stills his hands, massaging Louis’ thigh with his free hand. Louis can’t control the thrusts of his lips down to meet Harry’s fingers, only knowing that he needs more.

            “Want me to make you come?” Harry asks, and Louis nods. “I’ll make you come now, then you get to come again while I’m fucking you. Okay?” Harry asks again, and Louis nods quickly. “Guess I’m good enough to make you come untouched then, huh?” Harry prods with a smirk. Before Louis can answer, Harry is rubbing his fingertips against Louis’ prostate. He’s not thrusting, but, instead, keeping it continuously stimulated. Louis’ thighs are tingling as they clasp tighter around Harry, his mouth drops open and only a few squeaks escape. It feels so good and before he can even warn Harry, his vision is gone and his thighs are shaking as he covers himself with his own come. It’s art. The way Louis’ back arches and legs fall open and come streaks across his chest.

            Harry doesn’t pull his fingers out until he’s calmed down, still breathing heavily. “You did so well for me, baby. Such a good boy, coming from only my fingers,” Harry praises, feathering his fingertips up and down Louis’ stomach as he calms down. “You looked so good coming from my fingers,” Harry continues to praise, leaning down to kiss along Louis’ jawline softly.

            “Can’t wait to be filled with your dick,” Louis whispers, barely audible. Harry groans, nipping at Louis’ ear.

            “Love hearing your dirty little comments,” Harry grumbles in Louis’ ear, squeezing his hips as he pulls back. Louis smiles, recovered from his orgasm. He props himself up on his elbows.

            “I want you to wreck me. Fuck me so good I’m in tears, Harry. I know you can do that. Be rough with me but still so gentle. I love that about you.” Harry’s not sure if that counts as a proper ‘I love you.’ But, if anything, it’s pretty close.

            “Let me take you to my bedroom, want to make love to you there.” Louis is hesitant. It seems like beds are for committed people, as weird as he may be for thinking that. He nods though, he wouldn’t be doing this with Harry if he didn’t feel something for him. Louis wraps his legs securely around Harry’s waist, and his arms around his neck as Harry lifts him off the couch with ease. Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, and suckles little marks along his neck until he’s being gently set on a large, comfy bed.

            “Are you flexible?” Harry asks, crawling to Louis on the bed and spreading his legs then pushing his knees to the bed slowly until they touch with ease.

            “Yeah,” Louis says softly, as Harry marvels over this wonderful human being. “We can explore that next time, c’mon.” Harry notes the ‘next time’ and can’t help but smile. Louis is impatient though, and sits up with an annoyed groan. He grabs the lube and squirts some on his hand, then rubs it up and down Harry’s length. Harry’s slouching, so it’s easy for Louis to kiss him, they share a sloppy kiss as Louis’ hands continue to work on Harry’s cock. Harry’s hands run through Louis’ hair as their tongues swirl around one another. Louis grows needier, straddling Harry’s lap and grinding his arse against Harry’s thighs. “Need you inside me,” He mumbles against Harry’s lips. Harry holds onto Louis tightly as he leans forward until Louis’ resting back on the mattress, and Harry is hovering over him. Louis’ legs wrap around Harry’s waist and he reaches around to hold Harry’s length, helping him guide it in. Harry feels like he should be talking to Louis, whispering sweet things, but Louis’ mouth feels amazing on his and he can’t wait any longer to be inside Louis. When the head of Harry’s cock is past the first line of muscles, Louis moans into Harry’s mouth. Harry pulls his lips away, but keeping their faces close and they breathe hot air against each other. Harry has one hand on Louis’ hip and the other caressing his cheek. Louis now has both of his hands gripping onto Harry’s shoulder, his legs still securely wrapped around Harry’s waist. Harry eases in more, and he can feel the resistance from Louis’ tightness. He’s halfway in, pleasure already coursing through him. But he has to check up on Louis.

            “All okay? So tight, don’t wanna hurt you,” He manages to form a few broken sentences. Louis’ response is to pull Harry closer in with his legs, resulting in Harry pushing in a few more inches and eventually, thanks to Louis’ force, bottoming out. Louis lets out a sigh of relief, and Harry’s forehead drops to Louis’ shoulder as he groans. Both of his hands are on Louis’ hips, rubbing soothing circles there. His legs are tensed up, probably trying to adjust and wait for the pain to dullen.

            “Don’t move yet,” Louis whispers, as if Harry would even blink right now without making sure it was okay with Louis. He nods though, tracing hearts with his thumb against Louis’ hips. “We could stay like this forever if I didn’t need to come so badly,” Louis’ voice is sweet, but Harry chuckles. His laughter causes his cock to move inside Louis, resulting in mouse like squeaks from Louis.

            “I’m sorry, baby. You’re so endearing.” Harry buries his head into Louis’ neck, smiling.

            “Move, please. I need you,” Louis begs. Harry would double check and triple check to make sure Louis is ready but he already knows he’ll say yes and doing that will only delay him being able to fuck Louis. So, he slowly retracts his hips until only the head of his cock is inside, and in one swift movement, he thrusts back inside. Louis can’t help the slight arch that forms in his back in reaction to that, the pleasure coursing through him and controlling his movements. Harry continues doing that, and Louis is letting out pornographic moans and sounds as Harry moves. Harry thinks he’s doing it just for show, but when he lifts his head to look at Louis, his face is in pure bliss. His eyes open in response to Harry’s movement, and maintain eye contact with him as more of these luscious noises fall from his lips with each deep thrust. Harry likes the way Louis’ head and body shifts against the mattress with ever thrust, the way the pleasure takes over his face and body. The friction from Harry’s thrusts alone could make Louis come. He feels so vulnerable, his legs relaxing and falling off to the side while he lets Harry continue to thrust himself in and out of Louis. His knees resting on the mattress. Harry’s in control, holding onto his hips while continuing his deep thrusts, his balls slapping against Louis’ skin. Harry sees the rush of emotion fall over Louis’ face. He nuzzles his nose against Louis’ cheek, angling his hips and thrusting in harder this time to hit Louis’ prostate directly. Louis lets out a proper cry, the first tear running out of his eye as he slings his over his face to hide himself.

            “You’re so beautiful like this, always so beautiful. Stretched around my cock, making all of your noises,” Harry coos into Louis’ ear as Louis’ body reacts to the pleasure, jolting with the first contact of Harry’s cock against his prostate. A loud, high pitched moan fills the room and Louis grips onto Harry’s back to keep him close. Louis’ loud noises continue to fill the room, and Harry’s join in with Louis’ as he draws closer to his orgasm. Harry grabs ahold of Louis’ wrists, pinning them above his head so he can clearly see Louis’ facial expression through these last few moments. Harry watches the tears roll down Louis’ cheeks, his red lips parted as the sobs of pleasure shake his rib cage and cause quivers in his bottom lip.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Louis chants, voice high and desperate as his muscles clench around Harry’s dick. Deep moans roll off of Harry’s tongue with every thrust, engulfed by the warmth that is Louis.

Louis’ thighs are trembling; the trembles grow more rapidly with every thrust pounding into his prostate. His nails are digging into Harry’s back, letting out another cry. Louis clenches his hole around Harry’s cock, and Harry groans louder. Seconds later, Louis’ coming with a sob and moaning Harry’s name, his words barely coherent. Harry fucks him through Louis’ orgasm, holding back his own orgasm for just a few more seconds before filling Louis up with his come. Louis tenses around the sensation, then relaxes as Harry slowly pulls out and releases his grip around Louis’ wrists. Louis shivers as come begins to trickle down his thigh, looking up at Louis with a sense of innocence in his eyes. Harry smiles fondly, rolling off of Louis and lying on his side next to him. Harry ghosts his fingers across Louis’ stomach, tickling the skin gently and Louis mewls softly.

            “M’ all sticky,” Louis complains, still shaking slightly from his orgasm. Harry kisses his forehead, and heads to the bathroom to fetch a wet cloth. He quickly returns, wiping Louis’ hole. He flinches, still sensitive. Harry quickly wipes over Louis’ stomach, then his own before tossing the flannel.

            “How’re you feeling?” Harry asks, lying back down next to Louis ad pulling the comforter over both of them.

            “Tingly, you?” Louis asks, his voice still reflecting his blissful and submissive state.

            “Like I just had the best sex in my life,” Harry responds, wrapping an arm around Louis’ shoulder and tucking him under his bicep. Louis goes quiet for a few minutes, body still trembling ever so slightly. Harry holds him close, pressing kisses to his cheek when he feels it’s necessary. Louis melts against the man, resting his head on Harry’s chest. He stays still, eventually stirring and the trembles subside slowly.

            “’M so tired,” Louis whispers, letting his eyes droop closed with his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Harry runs his hands along Louis’ sides, listening to Louis’ breathing steady. The boy drifts off, Harry admires the boy’s gentle face for a few more minutes before letting his eyes shut as well.

 

            Louis wakes up, very naked, with a very naked Harry pressed up against his back. The man’s strong arms are slung over him, one curled underneath him as well. “Good morning,” Harry whispers when he finally feels Louis stirring in his arms, kissing behind Louis’ ear. Louis makes a soft noise, turning around to snuggle into Harry’s bare chest.

            “We had sex last night,” Louis whispers, looking up at Harry and smiling. Harry chuckles, kissing Louis’ forehead and holding him close.

            “We did,” Harry responds, reaching down to give Louis’ bare bum a quick squeeze, liking the way he jumps and squeaks cutely. Louis’ stomach growls. “Hungry, honey? I can make some pancakes,” Harry suggests, holding Louis’ waist.

            “Or…” Louis starts, leaning up so his mouth is right by Harry’s ears. “I could suck your cock and _then_ you could make us pancakes,” Louis whispers.

            So, Louis has Harry’s cum and pancakes for breakfast.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry wakes up Sunday morning, rolling to his side to find his bed empty. He reaches his arm out across the empty bed, sighing before rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. Harry glances over at his side table to his phone, contemplating while chewing at his bottom lip. With a sigh, he gives in and grabs his phone, quickly typing a text.

            _I miss you, how fast can you get over here?_  
            Harry sighs of relief, waiting patiently for the text or anything from Louis. Within a few minutes. his phone and chest are vibrating and he picks up to find Louis calling, and quickly answers.

            “Hey, babe. I’m in a cab on my way right now,” Louis’ voice chimes over the phone, and Harry smiles with his warm iPhone pressed against his cheek.

            “I’m still in bed, but I can’t wait to see you,” Harry responds. “There’s a key under the red potted plant, let yourself in,” Harry adds on.

            “Okay, we’re pulling into your neighborhood now, see you soon,” Louis says quickly, hanging up.

Harry stretches his limbs out on the bed, ears twitching when his front door opens and closes. Within a few moments, a small boy in sweatpants and a t shirt is jumping into his bed, pouncing him.

“Hi, baby,” Harry says, startled as Louis climbs on top of him, straddling Harry’s waist. Louis’ smiling, running his hands along Harry’s bare chest. Harry reaches out to cup Louis’ bum gently, smiling so wide his dimples show up.

“I missed you too,” Louis says sweetly, sitting down on Harry’s lower stomach, his thighs on either side of Harry.

“I missed you so much, weekends are so boring without you,” Harry says, and Louis shuffles off of Harry, lying on his stomach next the man. Louis’ arse looks so good in sweatpants, filling them up and stretching the fabric slightly.

Harry rolls to face Louis, reaching his hand out rub along Louis’ arse. Louis rests the side of his face on a pillow to watch Harry, smiling softly and arching his back ever so slightly against Harry’s hand. Harry grips Louis’ bum, feeling his toned ass. Louis lets out a content nose, fluttering his eyes closed while letting the man play with his bum. Harry holds onto it, shaking it and watching it jiggle and groaning softly. Harry rubs his hand back up to Louis’ back, scooting closer to the boy and ghosting soft kisses along his face.

“Hey, remember when we had sex the other night?” Louis asks, opening his eyes and giggling.

“Yeah, that was great,” Harry replies, grinning and wrapping his arms around Louis’ slender waist. “Do you want to…” Before Harry can finish, Louis’ already pulling off his own shirt and sweatpants, pulling the man on top of him with a mischievous smile.

 

Louis lets himself doze off with Harry’s naked body pressed up behind him. Harry’s peppering kisses along Louis’ neck, pampering his baby. Harry runs his hands along Louis’ curves, the dip of his waist and his wide hips.

“I love the way your ass jiggles when I fuck you,” Harry whispers behind Louis, the boy bursting out into laugher and rolling over to face him. Harry has a cheeky smile, eyes bright while watching Louis laugh with a bright smile and crinkly eyes.

“I love the way your big dick makes my ass jiggle when you fuck me,” Louis replies, still smiling while looking over the man. Harry leans in, kissing the crinkles by Louis’ eyes and pulling him closer.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Harry mumbles, letting their foreheads touch as they lay their head on the same pillow, gazing at one another.

“I do too, but I haven’t had breakfast yet and I’m starving,” Louis says quietly back, and Harry rubs his hands down along Louis’ soft tummy and smiling fondly.

“I bought a waffle iron, want to try it out?” Harry asks.

So, they get some underwear on and mix up the batter, Harry pressing himself behind Louis while he mixes. Louis reaches his hand for the bag of flour, Harry quirking his eyebrow right before Louis throws some behind his shoulder right into Harry’s face.

“You brat!” Harry exclaims, Louis already scurrying away quickly and Harry close behind him. Louis’ on one side of the kitchen table, Harry on the other as they shift back and forth, wondering who will make the first move. Louis squeals like a child when Harry sprints around the table after him. Louis ends up cornering himself in the kitchen, watching as Harry stalks over with a bag of sugar in hand.

“Harry, I am sensitive, don’t hurt me,” Louis whines, flour fluttering down Harry’s face and he walks right up to Louis. Louis watches him with wide eyes, waiting for sugar to be dumped all over him, when Harry dips his finger into the bag. He covers it in sugar, pulling it back and trailing it along Louis’ wet lip. Louis subtly smiles, dipping his head and wrapping his lips around Harry’s finger and swirling his tongue around to get all the sugar off. When Louis pulls away, Harry lifts the bag of sugar up and pours it completely onto Louis’ head. “Harry!” Louis shouts, a pile of sugar on his head, slowly trickling down his body that’s naked besides a pair of briefs.

“You started it,” Harry says childishly, shielding his face when Louis shakes his head and sugar goes flying everywhere.

“Have fun cleaning that up,” Louis says sassily, walking past Harry to resume stirring up the batter after their childish outburst.

“Louis…” Harry starts, but stops himself. He’s not ready to put himself out there like that, he’s not ready for Louis to reject him and his emotions. So, instead, Harry walks over to his boy and assumes his previous position behind him, leaning down to rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder.

 

\--

 

            “Harry! I aced all of my midterms!” Louis exclaims as he closes the door to Harry’s office behind him, walking over to the man working behind his desk.

            “Louis, I’m beyond proud of you but why are you here? Students have this week off, only professors have to come in today. Plus, we’re driving up north tonight to watch Shakespeare in the park,” Harry comments, walking around his desk to embrace his boy.

            “I know,” Louis whines. “I missed you, that’s all,” Louis says with a shrug, poking his bottom lip out and Harry swoops his head down to kiss the sweet boy delicately.

            “You need to go home and enjoy your day off, I’ll be there to pick you up in,” Harry pauses to check his watch, “four hours. Okay?”

            “Fine,” Louis huffs out with a sigh, and Harry walks him to the door and watches him walk down the hall, glancing behind his shoulder a few times.

            “What was that about?” Dr. Morelli-White asks while passing by Harry’s office.

            “Oh, nothing. He just had a question about midterm grades,” Harry says quickly, smiling at his colleague.

            “Alright…” She says, taking another second to stare at the man. “I’ll see you at the English department meeting later today, Harry.”

            Harry disappears back into his office, collapsing into his chair with a sigh. He’s quite bad at lying.

 

\--

 

            Harry picks Louis up for Shakespeare in the park right on time. Louis is wearing tight, black skinny jeans with a maroon sweater, and Harry is wearing some dark jeans, a black sweater, and a denim jacket on top. They set up their blanket relatively close to the stage when they get there, and Harry runs off to fetch them refreshments while Louis guards their spot, squinting at anybody who tries to set up too close. Shortly later, Harry comes back with kettle corn, chocolate bars, and soda.

            Harry sits down, knees bent and legs slightly apart. Louis takes his opportunity to crawl between Harry’s legs, Harry’s stomach pressed against Louis’ back. Harry smiles fondly while watching Louis situate himself, grabbing some pillows he brought and propping them behind his head to lay back. Louis follows, using Harry’s lower chest as a pillow. Harry reaches down to rest his hands on Louis’ shoulders, and Louis bends his elbows and intertwines both of their hands.

            They enjoy the play ‘Hamlet’ quietly, chuckling at the old jokes that not many other people in the audience understand. Then the scene when Ophelia dies begins. Harry hears his boy sniffling, holding him closer to keep him warm. But then. Louis pulls his hands away and they disappear onto his face.

            “Baby,” Harry whispers, sitting up and pulling Louis onto his lap to find the boy crying quietly. “Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Harry whispers, pulling the boy close to him and Louis ducks his face against his neck.

            “It’s just so sad. Ophelia died miserable, without her true love and being betrayed by that person. I don’t want to end up like that, without the person I care about most,” Louis whispers quietly, his voice quivering. “Harry?” He asks quietly, keeping his face buried in the mans neck.

            “Yes, baby?” Harry whispers quietly, avoiding the scolds of others by talking as quietly as possible.

            “Why haven’t you asked me to be with you officially?” His voice is barely audible. He’s in a vulnerable place, emotional and clinging onto another person. Harry rubs along Louis’ back.

            “But we are together, aren’t we?” Harry asks, trying to pull the word he’s looking for from Louis, not wanting to embarrass himself if he’s wrong.

            “You haven’t asked me to be your boyfriend, though,” Louis says quietly, and Harry freezes. His lips curl up into a smile and before he can say anything, Louis is squirming off of his lap. “I’m making a complete fool of myself. I’m going to the bathroom,” Louis says quickly, as he quickly walks away, trying not to block the view pf anyone for too long.

            “Shit,” Harry mumbles, quickly realizing his mistake of not replying right away, ducking down as he quickly walks in front of the stage. He straightens up when he’s no longer blocking the stage, walking up along a sidewalk in hope that it leads him to the bathrooms and Louis. How is Louis so damn fast? Harry walks around the park, finding the bathrooms but no Louis. So, he continues his mini hike until he finds Louis sitting under a big oak tree, picking dandelions. Harry sits in front of him, and Louis only briefly looks up.

            “I shouldn’t have said anything. We can keep things casual, whatever you want,” Louis mumbles, pulling another dandelions roots out, inspecting it before blowing on it and letting all the pieces fly by them.

            “Louis, be my boyfriend,” Harry says gently, reaching out to grab Louis’ hands. Louis pulls his hands away though, crossing them in front of his chest.

            “You’re only saying that because you feel bad,” Louis mumbles, keeping his gaze down. Harry grits his teeth, frustrated while he thinks of what he can say to this stubborn boy.

            “Dammit, Louis. I…” Harry pauses, and Louis flicks his eyes up, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Louis, I love you. I’ve been scared to say it but every time I look at you all I can think about is the fact that I love you. I love my boyfriend.” There’s a silence that rings through the air, before Louis bursts into a big grin, leaning in a kissing Harry hard.

            “My boyfriend,” Louis echoes against Harry’s lips.

            So they walk back, hand in hand and settling back in. It isn’t until the last act while Harry’s looking back onto him professing his love for Louis when the man’s heart drops. Louis didn’t say ‘I love you’ back.

 

\--

 

            Louis’ curled against Harry’s side, sitting on Harry’s couch with the television turned onto some ridiculous cartoon.

            “You seem a bit tense, love. Want me to… take care of you?” Louis asks, wiggling his eye brows while looking up at his boyfriend.

            “No, it’s alright, love,” Harry replies shortly, keeping his eyes fixated on the T.V.

            “I can tell somethings wrong, when are you planning on telling me?” Louis asks, frowning when Harry finally meets his gaze.

            “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Harry replies, and that only annoys Louis further.

            “Well if it’s upsetting you this much, it should be a big deal,” Louis responds, trying to maintain his cool as much as possible.

            “Who says I’m upset?” Harry responds, unleashing the kraken within Louis. Louis stands up straight, scooting away from Harry so he can wave his arms around dramatically while shouting.

            “Your bloody body language is screaming it! We’ve barely spoken the hour that I’ve been here and you said _no_ to me sucking you fucking dick when it’s your favorite thing in the world!” Louis yells.

            “I don’t know what to tell you,” Harry replies, sighing.

            “Call me when you want to tell me what’s wrong,” Louis snaps, getting up and heading to the door.

            “Why are you getting mad at me when I’m the one allegedly upset?” Harry shouts after him, which was a mistake because now Louis is storming back over to him.

            “Don’t turn this back onto me. All I want to do is be there for you and fix whatever I did wrong to make this relationship work but clearly you don’t want that. Why are we dating if you’re just going to shut me out?” Harry sees the tears in Louis’ eyes and he knows he can’t lie any longer.

            “You didn’t tell me you loved me back the other night, alright? I told you that I loved you and you… didn’t,” Harry explains, sighing. Louis walks back around the back, plopping himself down onto Harry’s lap and pecking kisses along his face.

            “Harry, I’m so sorry. How could I not love you? Although me crying over you not asking me to be your boyfriend contradicts this, I’m… I’m bad at committing myself to someone,” Louis admits, both of their hearts beating fast from anticipation and worry.

            “But… you love me?” Harry asks quietly.

            “I love you,” Louis says quietly, his voice cracking quietly and he buries his head against Harry’s chest and stays there for a few moments.

            “I love you, too,” Harry whispers. “And… and it’s okay if you’re bad at committing,” Harry adds on nervously. “We can figure that out, right?” Harry realizes that he’s twenty-eight, has a house, a well-paying career, and full intent to settle down. Louis, however, is 21 and only just recently bought his first place of his own which is just a cheap flat. Harry holds his boy closer, fearing for the future and what might come.


	14. Chapter 14

            The rest of the semester goes smoothly. Louis aces all of his class, of course, maintaining his excelling GPA. They exchange quite a few ‘I love you’s’ and spend lots of night together, towards the last couple of week so the semester it’s unusual for them not to wake up next to one another. They travel all across the U.K for date nights, always travelling at least an hour to spend a night out. It’s romantic though, long car rides, quick kisses at red lights and sweet touches under the moonlight. They keep things light, although their adoration for one another is deep. They do refrain from spending too much time together in Harry’s office, as Harry fears it’s starting to raise suspicion from other professor’s. But, now the semester is over and they have the summer free to themselves. Although, Louis’ mom has been pestering about him, asking when the semester is over and when he’s coming back home. He keeps his replies short, not mentioning any details of it to his mom or Harry.

 

            Louis grabs Harry’s collar, pulling him into the door while walking backwards, whispering dirty things. “I want you to bend me over the counter, pin my hands above my head and-“

            “Louis!” A familiar voice explains, and Louis whips his head around to turn and see his mother sitting on his couch, and smiling. “My boy!” She rises, Louis letting go of Harry quickly and accepting his mother’s tight embrace. Louis pulls away quickly, turning back to Harry.

            “You… you can go, alright? I’ll call you tonight, I promise,” Louis insists, trying to usher him out the door before his mom says anything and he’s already embarrassed from what his mom may have overheard.

            “Wait a minute. You can just kick this nice-looking man out without introducing me to him,” Louis’ mom insists, and Louis closes his eyes, letting out a sharp breath before turning around and smiling.

            “Harry, this is my mom, Jay. Mom, this is my… boyfriend, Harry,” Louis says, feeling the weird look from Harry burning into the side of his face. Harry still shakes his mom’s hand like a proper gentlemen, saying something like “I’m honored to meet you.” Louis’ too nervous to properly listen.

            “Boyfriend?! Louis, why didn’t you tell me?” Louis’ mom exclaims.

            “Yeah, Louis, why didn’t you tell her?” Harry asks, standing next to Louis’ mom with his arms crossed. Louis squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, opening them to see two pairs of eyes still staring at him.

            “Our situation isn’t exactly normal, Harry,” Louis whines, and Harry sighs, giving in and stepping over to wrap an arm around his boy.

            “You didn’t have to spill every detail, love. But… we’re together. We’ve been together, isn’t that important?” Harry asks, rubbing Louis’ back and keeping his voice low.

            “Well, we all know each other now. So, let’s just get through the introductions, alright?” Louis says quickly, ushering them all to the couch and sitting between his mom and Harry, leaning into Harry when the man wraps his arms around him.

            They get to talking, Harry and Jay quickly getting into a conversation about children and then gardening. They talk for about thirty minutes, things going smoothly while Louis is listening intently this time in case a sensitive topic comes up.

            “Louis, I don’t know why you’d keep Harry hidden from me, he’s wonderful!” Jay says, and Louis blinks his eyes a few times as he finally has the chance to speak in this conversation.

            “I don’t know,” Louis lies, looking to the left at his boyfriend, who looks fondly down at him.

            “Anyway, Harry, you look a bit older. Do you attend Oxford as well or are you graduated?” Harry’s arm tenses around Louis, and Louis freezes next to him. They knew it was coming, it’s quite unavoidable. Harry coughs, breaking the brief silence before speaking.

            “I’m graduated, yeah,” Harry replies, keeping his answer short and Louis forces a smile, trying to stay cheery and praying his mother stops there. But, she doesn’t. Louis would accuse her of being nosey, but in reality it’s normal to ask about someone’s career.

            “Well? What do you do?” Jay asks, chuckling and her eyes crinkle, just like Louis’ does.

            “I’m a uh, professor,” Harry replies, voice a bit deeper if that’s even possible.

            “Getting a start at one of the community colleges, then? They’re so lovely around here, so many of my friends are going to back to class to earn their degree,” Jay says lightly, oblivious to the news that’s soon to come.

            “I actually work at Oxford,” Harry says quietly, and Jay nods, processing what was just said and what exactly it means. Louis sinks into the couch, swallowing the rock in this throat.

            “That’s how we met, he was uh… my professor fall semester,” Louis explains quietly. Jay’s sweet expression slowly fades. Harry lets his arm around Louis drop to his side, and Louis reaches out to intertwine their fingers tightly.

            “Is this a joke to you? Do you think taking advantage of young, vulnerable students is a joke? Do you just walk into your classroom, figuring out which student you’re going to get with next?” Jay asks harshly, her lips pressing into a thin line. She’s got quite a bite to her, reminding Harry of Louis and their first few encounters. Jay is quite more reserved, however.

            “Mom, please,” Louis whispers, staring down at his lap.

            “I know the circumstances of our relationship aren’t traditional but-“ Harry starts.

            “Not traditional? They’re absurd! Predatory!” Jay accuses, eyes furrowed and forehead crinkled.

            “I know it appears that way, but please, I adore your son. I’m more than fond of him, I love him and would do anything to ensure his happiness,” Harry explains, holding onto his boy’s hand, and Louis uses his free hand to hide his face.

            “Ensure his happiness by leaving him the hell alone,” Jay snaps quickly, and that’s when they both hear a small sob escape Louis’ lips, turning their attention to the boy in between them, hiding his face with hot tears rolling down his cheek. “Lou,” Jay says softly, reaching her hand out to hold his arm but Louis scoots away, leaning into Harry and resting his head on his chest and still covering his face with his hand.

            Jay watches, heartbroken, as Harry wraps his arms securely around her boy, rocking them back and forth softly. “It’s okay, my sweet,” Harry whispers, pressing kisses to the top of his head and running his hands along the boys back and arms comfortingly. There’s another quite sob, Louis’ body shaking softly.  Tears well up in Jay’s eyes, watching her son heartbroken and being unable to comfort him in anyway.

            “Louis, I’m sorry. We can work this out,” Jay finally speaks up, Harry briefly glancing up at her before turning his attention back to Louis as the boy leans in closer.

            “I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, hiccupping and wiping his tears, molding into Harry’s side and resting his head onto Harry’s shoulder. Louis’ eyes are bright red, his cheeks and nose a soft shade of red as well. “I love you so much,” Louis whispers, voice still hiccup-y, looking up at Harry who smiles fondly down at him.

            “I love you too, sweetheart,” Harry replies softly, Jay still watching with tears in her eyes that she blinks away.

            “Louis, I’m sorry. I was a bit harsh,” Jay starts, frowning while watching the two embrace each other.

            “No need to apologize. Louis’ a very special boy, you have every right to be defensive and protective over him. I just hope I can show you that I feel very similarly about him,” Harry says, smiling solemnly.

            “Does anybody, um, know about you two? Jay asks, and the pair shakes their head.

            “Louis went through the rules, and it’s not stated anywhere, but obviously it wouldn’t be accepted with open arms,” Harry explains.

            “Where are the girls?” Louis asks, abruptly changing the subject, his eyes still tinted red.

            “At a hotel nearby, I didn’t want to bombard you with everyone. Probably a good thing, eh?” Jay chuckles, a serious laugh if that’s even possible.

            “Lottie taking care of the twins?” Louis asks, perking up a bit. Jay nods, smiling softly. “Can you bring them over later for dinner? Harry and I can make something,” Louis says softly.

            So, the plan is final. Jay takes a cab back to the hotel, which Harry insists he pays for. And Louis and Harry make an easy dinner.

 

When Louis’ front door opens, there are screeches and footsteps running in. They eventually find Louis in the kitchen, cornering the boy and jumping on him. The twins hug his thighs, while the older siblings hug him from the sides, all yelling things like ‘I love you’ ‘I miss you.’ Harry watches from the other side of the kitchen, bewildered and fond while watching Louis embrace his siblings.

“Come on, girls, it’s crowded in here. Go out to the lounge, and I’ll be out there in just a few,” Louis promises, pecking the girls’ foreheads as they scatter out of the room, fighting for spots on the couch. Louis turns his attention back to Harry, who is staring at him fondly while stirring veggies in a pan.

“You’re very close with your family, hm?” Harry asks, smiling while gazing over at his boy who walks over to him, pecking the man’s cheek.

“Yeah, they’re pretty great,” Louis says, wrapping his arm around the man and smiling. “You’re pretty great, too,” Louis adds on, standing on his tip toes to kiss Harry quickly. The pair turns around to see many eyes staring at them from the other room. Louis’ cheeks turn red, turning away.

“Why don’t we plate this stuff up and take it to the table?” Louis asks, already beginning to drain the pasta, rinsing it off before rummaging for a big bowl. Louis pours out the pasta, bringing that to the main table. Harry takes care of the pasta cause and sautéed veggies. Louis sets plates and silverware as well before they both fill up lots of glasses with iced water.

“Come on, girls!” Louis exclaims, being ambushed by girls fighting for seats next to Louis, which ends up being won by Fiz. Louis sits on one end, Jay on the other. Harry is on one side of Louis, and Fiz on the other. “Alright, everyone. This is Harry, my boyfriend,” Louis explains, gesturing to Harry and the girls smile and wave. “Now, go around the table and introduce yourselves.” The girls do, and Harry doesn’t think he’ll be able to tell the twins apart for quite some time. While they’re introducing themselves, Louis walks over to his mom to take one of the smaller twins off her hands, sitting back down. “And this here is Doris, and my mom is holding Ernest. My step-dad, Dan, is at home working I assume,” Louis explains while everyone begins rationing out food, Harry scooping pasta and vegetables out for Louis as well since he currently has a restless toddler on his lap.

 

            Louis listens intently as all of his sisters fight to tell him what they’ve been up to in between bites of food. Between dance, makeup, school and loads of other things. Louis makes insightful comments, of course. Harry’s simply there, listening. Jay watches over all of her children conversing proudly, eyes beaming.   They all shovel food in their mouths as well when they’re not the ones receiving attention from Louis.

            “And how’s beauty school going?” Louis asks Lottie after taking a bite of food, and she dives into detail about how she had to give pedicures to twenty different people, explaining how terribly their feet smelled and how one person nearly kicked her in the face because they were ticklish.

            “So, how did you two meet?” Lottie asks when the conversation begins to fade and plates begin to grow emptier, a few going for small portions of seconds.

            “Well, it’s a bit different. Harry was uh, my professor fall semester and it wasn’t until just before Christmas break that we became romantic,” Louis explains, bouncing Doris on his lap and letting the toddler pick the remaining vegetables off of his plate to eat.

            “That’s like a romance movie!” Daisy exclaims, the pre-teen twins giggling to themselves, whispering to each other about something giddily.

            “I just want you happy, Lou,” Fiz says, giving a soft smile to the pair, a weird feeling still in the pit of her stomach but she’s spent a long time chatting with the pair and likes the way Harry looks at Louis.

            “It’s still a bit for me to process, but at the end of the day I think we all want Louis happy, and I know if you all get to know Harry you’ll grow to like him,” Jay chirps in. Louis wraps one arm around Doris, reaching over to hold Harry’s hands with the other.

            Jay instructs the girls to wash up the dishes, Louis bouncing the toddler on his lap with Harry leaning over to make silly faces in front of Doris. Harry holds onto his small hands, playing peek-a-boo with her, smiling widely as she squeals with delight at the game. Louis looks down at them fondly, combing his hands through Doris’ soft, gentle curls.

            “Let’s move out to the lounge, hm?” Louis suggests, already standing up and holding Doris on his side, propped up on his hip. Louis walks over to his mom, picking up Ernest to prop up on his other hip, kissing Ernest’s cheek and blowing a soft raspberry against it. Harry follows closely behind, watching Louis squat down slowly until his bum hits the ground. He sets the toddlers in his lap, letting them play with his fingers and grab at his shirt. Harry sits on the couch behind him, Jay snuggling into a side chair while the other girls file in, arguing over who gets to have control over the television remote.

            Harry ignores it, though, leaning over Louis, resting one hand on the boy’s shoulder while letting one of the little twins grab hold of the other one. Louis tilts his head back to look at Harry, a smile spreading across his face when Harry leans down to peck Louis’ nose.

“Why aren’t we considering you as a creep? That’s what you are, right?” Lottie speaks up abruptly, the chattering falls silent and all eyes turn onto her. She’s sat there, arms crossed and lips pursed, glaring at Harry.

            “Lottie, that’s disrespectful,” Jay says sternly, leaning forward in her chair. Louis’ eyes are wide like a deer in headlights, and Harry’s smile quickly fades.

            “A thirty-year-old man taking advantage of a twenty-year-old student. It’s ridiculous, it’s pedophilia or something. Whatever it is, it’s not right. We all know Louis doesn’t have the best taste in boyfriends either,” Lottie snaps.

            “That was in bloody high school Lottie,” Louis retorts harshly. “Like you have any better taste now, that twat you’re with now is a piece of-“

            “Stop!” Jay shouts. “Everyone, no more. This isn’t a good way to discuss this.” Louis rolls his eyes, nudging the toddlers off his lap and storming away. There’ a door slam, and suddenly all eyes turn to Harry who has now essentially been abandoned by his boyfriend. He picks up the little ones onto his lap while collecting his thoughts, still frazzled.

            “I never would have predicted I’d be in a relationship like this,” Harry finally starts, bouncing Doris on one knee. “When signs first started showing that something could happen, I tried to stop it. I’d ignore him, which would only make him more persistent. I’m sure you all know how Louis reacts to being ignored,” Harry says, pausing to see a couple nods. He stares down at the ground, arms wrapped around the two little ones still. “He was the one who would always reassure me. It came to a point where I wasn’t scared of getting caught or fired… I was only scared of losing him. I still am,” Harry pauses, swallowing back tears and clearing his throat. “I love him. I love him very much. Hell, I’m in love with him. I’d do anything to ensure his happiness and if I thought I wasn’t making him happy I wouldn’t be with him.” Harry has to pinch the corners of his eyes, forcing the tears back into his eyes. Harry wants to say more, wants to say something snarky to Lottie to make her feel bad, but she already has guilt on her face. Harry hands the children off to Jay while walking back to check up on Louis, the bedroom door crack open behind him when he steps in to find the boys with tears dripping down his face for the second time today.

Harry sits next to the boy, feeling his trembles vibrate the bed. Harry leans in, tilting Louis’ chin up and molding his lips against Louis’. He needs to feel Louis right now. He dips his hands under Louis’ shirt to hold onto his bare waist, rubbing soothingly there. Louis mewls quietly when Harry pulls back to suck on his bottom lip. The man pulls back all the way, resting their foreheads together, soft, sad sounds continue to fall from Louis’ lips as tears continue to flow.

            “I don’t care about their approval,” Harry says softly, brushing his thumbs across Louis’ cheeks and catching a few falling tears.

            “I don’t either,” Louis says quietly, looking up at Harry with his round, wet eyes.

            “I only care about you and your approval. That’s all I want,” Harry whispers, and Louis leans in to basically collapse against Harry’s chest. He’s crying quietly, sniffles filling the room. Harry wraps his arms around the boy, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder. He stares forward, to see Lottie watching from the creak in the door. She gets startled when their eyes meet, shyly backing away and wiping away a few tears of her own after seeing her brother in that state, clinging onto the man he loves. Harry turns his attention back to Louis, focusing on kissing away Louis’ salty tears. Harry then realizes he’s crying too, simple tears rolling down his cheeks. Louis sniffles, wiping away the tears with shaky hands. Louis opens his mouth to say something, when there’s a soft knock at the door and then Jay walks in.

            “We’re going to head back to the hotel, okay?” Jay asks, pausing in the silence. “She feels really bad already,” Jay adds on. “I love you, Lou,” She whispers before closing the door behind her, and Louis nuzzles his face into Harry’s neck.

            “I need you to take care of me,” Louis whispers, desperation in his voice as he holds onto Harry tightly.

            “Always, Louis, I promise,” Harry reassures, squeezing Louis.

            “No, no, I need…” Louis takes in a deep breath, shifting away and lying on his back, feeling and looking vulnerable. Harry shifts to hover over the boy, dropping his head down so their noses bump against one another.

 

            They wake up the next morning with their bare bodies pressed against one another. Harry is whispering sweet nothings into Louis’ ear, tracing his fingers along his body. Harry lets his lips brush against the side of his love’s face, watching the boy finally flutter his eyes open, a soft expression on his face.

            “We should probably patch things up with your family today,” Harry says quietly, and Louis’ sweet expression turns into an angry one until it disappears all together when he hides his face under a pillow.

            “What happened to the whole ‘we don’t need their approval’ thing?” Louis whines, but his voice is muffled beneath the pillows. Harry chuckles, tossing the pillow to the side, looking down at the uncovered disgruntled boy. “Let’s just run away. Forget parents and responsibilities,” Louis suggests, propping his head up on his hand, elbow bent and digging into the bed to support him.

            “That would be lovely. _Or,_ we could smooth things over with your family today and get it out of the way, yeah?” Harry suggests, Louis grumbling.

 

            Within the next hour, they’re all back where they were last night, only Louis is now pressed against Harry’s side instead of sitting on the floor with the young ones.

            “Let’s get this over with,” Louis sighs softly, Harry squeezing his side reassuringly. “I’m just going to say it, I’m tired of having ‘meetings’ discussing _my_ relationship. There shouldn’t be a discussion, it involves me and Harry and you’ll either accept us for how we are or not,” Louis says sassily, and Harry clears his throat.

            “I uh- I think what Louis means to say is that it’s upsetting seeing the contents of our relationship discussed when you all haven’t really seen much of it,” Harry says kindly, earning a small glare from Louis but he ignores it and only continues to rub along his side.

            “I saw you two in Louis’ room last night, crying. I… I’m sorry,” Lottie mutters, twiddling her fingers and staring down at them. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”

            “Alright, now that we’ve gotten that away, can we officially end any discussions of my relationship?” Louis asks, standing up quickly. Harry reaches up, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him back down. Louis lands on Harry’s lap with an ‘oof.’

            “Baby,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear quietly, so nobody else can hear. “Be good.” Louis crosses his arms, pouting, but his face isn’t quite as hard as it was before.

            “I really do look forward to getting to know you all better. Louis means a lot to me and I’d love to get closer to people who mean a lot to him as well,” Harry says loud enough for everyone to hear, letting Louis shuffles off of his lap.

            “I look forward to that as well. You’re good for my boy, keeping him grounded and calming down his energetic outburst,” Jay comments, smiling teasingly when Louis groans, dropping his head back dramatically. His shirt droops down, showing a hickey on his collar bone. Harry clears his throat, wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulder and letting his arm dangle down to cover it when Louis lifts his head up. Louis seems oblivious to the intentions of his actions.

            “Well, the girls and I wanted to go shopping downtown. Would you two care to join us?” Jay asks, smiling and the two look at each other with furrowed brows.

            “It’s uh, too close. We wouldn’t want someone to see us,” Harry says quietly, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

            “But you go ahead, mum. Then you can catch a train back home later today. Harry and I can come back to Donny sometime to visit,” Louis promises, smiling gently.

 

            They all hug and say their goodbyes, the twin girls clinging onto Louis while Jay kisses his cheeks. Their all exclaiming their love and adoration for each other, even while the door is closing behind him. Finally, it’s quiet. Louis turns his attention back to Harry, wrapping his arms around his neck and smiling. “I love you,” Louis says gently, Harry’s hips resting on the boys hips.

            “I love you, too,” Harry replies with a smile, leaning in to kiss Louis ever so carefully.


	15. Chapter 15

Louis lets his head fall back as the hot water trickles down his body, washing away the sleep from the night before that still lingers. His ears twitch when the shower curtain rustles, a new presence behind him as their raw skin making contact as the man wraps his arms around the boy from behind. Louis doesn’t flinch when Harry grabs a loofa, lathering it in soap and takes a step back to begin scrubbing Louis down for him. His movements are gently, running the loofa along the boy’s side and letting his lips run along Louis’ neck.

            “Let’s take a trip,” Harry mumbles, the loofa making its way around Louis to his stomach and scrubbing there gently.

            “What kind of trip?” Louis asks, turning around and looking up at his man. He grabs the loofa from Harry before he can use it as an excuse to grab his ass. Harry pouts, Louis rubbing it along his chest.

            “My family has a beach house, we can stay there as long as we want,” Harry suggest, running his hands along Louis’ wet hair and smiling fondly down at the boy. He leans down to let their lips connect briefly, Louis reaching around to scrub Harry’s back with the loofa and along his strong biceps. “It’s really remote, not a house around for a mile, market a couple miles away. We’d have a beach all to ourselves, and a beautiful flower meadow in our backyard. We can skinny dip, make love on the beach, stargaze,” Harry continues on, his voice soft a sweet against Louis’ lips. Louis’ mouth curls up into a smile, letting Harry grab his bum with soapy hands.

            “Making love on the beach, that sounds so wonderful,” Louis whispers. “Speaking of sex and water, why don’t we…” Harry backs Louis up against the wall, gripping onto the boy’s arse and massaging there. Louis lets out a sweet sound, letting his head rest against the tile and Harry sucks hickey’s along his boys neck and mumbling dirty things he wants to do to him.

 

 

            So, Louis and Harry decide to go on a trip. They back their things, get on the next train, and go North to Harry’s beach house. When they arrive, it’s a quaint and remote house. There’s a beautiful meadow of flowers in front of it, and beautiful beaches behind it.

            The sun is nearly set when they finish getting unpacked, falling on the bed and letting their lips linger over one another. They kiss lazily, rolling around in the sheets. They touch each other gently, stroking backs and holding hips as their lips move against one another. Louis rests his hands-on Harry’s chest, and feels the mans’ heartbeat underneath his fingertips. Louis pulls away, looking out the window at the beautiful colors streaking across the sky. “Let’s go watch the sunset,” Louis requests, the pair kicking off their shoes on the back balcony before treading through the sand, hand in hand. Louis sits in a nice patch of sand, Harry sitting behind him with his legs bent on either side of the boy. He wraps his arms around him from behind, Louis grabbing his hands and intertwining their fingers. Louis curls his toes, feeling the sand squish between them as their eyes focus on the oranges, yellows, and streaks of red fill the sky.

            “You’re more beautiful than this sunset,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear, the sun barely dipping above the horizon. Louis laughs breathily, rolling his eyes and standing up.

            Harry watches, a bit confused. Louis pulls his shirt off, walking towards the water and leaving a trail of clothes behind him. Soon he’s bare bummed, looking back at Harry with a smirk while running into the water. Harry grins, stripping down as quickly as he can and chasing after Louis, who is already hip deep in the water. Harry grabs Louis from behind, picking him up and tossing him in the water, Louis squealing as he gets dunked.

            He comes up, hair soaked, grabbing Harry’s arms and pulling him into the water with him. Louis cough when he comes back up, wiping the saltwater away from his eyes and doing the same for Harry when he comes up. When Harry looks down through the water, Louis kicks his leg and cups his hands over his crotch. “Stop it!” Louis whines, blushing a deep red.

            “I’ve seen you sneaking glances,” Harry teases, splashing Louis playfully. Louis splashes back hard, Harry even harder, and Louis leaps to tackle Harry back into the water.

            They wrestle, Louis pinning Harry down as the waves slap against their bodies. Harry flips them easily with their strength, tickling Louis’ sides quickly and hard. Louis screams, laughs, and squeals as he flails his legs. “Harry, Harry!” Louis exclaims, kicking Harry off with his feet. They laugh breathlessly, the waves washed them up enough to where they can sit comfortably in the water. Stars begin the poke out behind the clouds, Louis catching his breath and looking over at Harry with a smile that sparkles in the darkness.

            “Louis, I love you,” Harry whispers, the night and intimacy of the moment making his voice go soft and quiet. Louis smiles at the sudden sweet words, eyes crinkling, but Harry can barely see the crinkles under the moonlight. Even if he can’t, he knows they’re there.

            “And I love you,” Louis replies, going pliant when Harry grabs his waist, and lays him down in the shallow water. He goes soft under his touches, spreading his legs and letting Harry find himself between them. His breath hitches, heart beating a bit faster as he watches Harry.

            Eventually, he lets his head fall back, closing his eyes, soaking up the moonlight and Harry’s love.

 

 

 

            Louis wakes up the next morning to an empty bed, frowning, reaching over to Harry’s side and still feeling his left-behind warmth. Louis’ too tired from last night to get up, a bit sore in the thighs and lower back. He sinks back into the sheets, letting his eyelids rest closed. He can’t help but here bustling in the other room, and he thinks he hears something cooking. Later he even smells it, smiling happily, and hoping if he stays in bed for a little longer that he’ll get breakfast in bed with Harry.

            He succeeds, opening his eyes when he hears footsteps, and sure enough Harry is walking in with two plates balanced on his forearms, and holding two cups of fresh squeezed juice. Louis leaps up to grab a plate and cup of juice before Harry drops it, ruining the lovely carpet. They both settle back in bed, Harry flicking on the morning news and it feels like they’re an old married couple with their food in bed, and news watching on a Monday morning.

            They much happily, content as the sea breeze flows in through the open window. Soon their bellies are full, and content as Louis scoots over to nuzzle up against Harry. “I could live like this forever,” Harry says softly, smiling as he looks down fondly at Louis.

            “Having sex on the beach at night and eating breakfast in bed until nearly noon?” Louis asks, laughing a bit.

            “If it was with you,” Harry says coolly, and it’s the first time either of them truly spoke of the future or referenced it out loud. Although it is casual, it still irks Louis a bit. If life was like this every day he _would_ like it, but it’s still terrifying to think further ahead than a week or so.

            “Do you want to walk on the beach?” Louis asks, changing the subject, kissing Louis’ cheeks as he drifts off to pull on a pair of shorts and a tank top, Harry following behind him to pull on shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

           

            They feel the sand beneath their toes, the soft crunch of shells beneath their feet as they walk hand in hand. Harry swings their arms with the wind. They only pause when Louis finds a pretty shell, one’s that are pretty and smooth with nice patterns. He hands them to Harry who tucks them into his pocket for safekeeping, and they jingle as they walk. They walk until the house disappears behind them.

            “’m tired,” Louis eventually complains, the two take a break and sit on the damp sand. Louis grabs the shells from Harry’s pockets, spreading them across the sand and arranging them into different shapes. He eventually settles for a heart, beaming proudly up at Harry, as Harry looks down fondly.

            “Very lovely,” Harry compliments, grabbing Louis’ sandy hands and holding them in his own. They watch birds fly by, and the waves hit the sand with their hands tangled together.

            “So, your last year of college starts this fall,” Harry starts, looking over at Louis, who is scanning the horizon with his crystal blue eyes.

            “Yeh, yeah I am,” Louis replies, looking over at Harry with a soft smile.

            “What are your plans?” Harry asks, chewing at his bottom lip and looking a bit nervously over at the boy.

            “Think I’ll work at an editing company for a bit, probably do online college to get my masters or doctorate in English. I’d like to teach high school for a bit, then go on to become a professor when I’ve had some teach experience and finish up my doctorate,” Louis explains, still seeming unsure for someone with a well thought out plan.

            “Any idea where you want to end up?” Harry asks, Louis sighing and shrugging.

            “Harry, please. I’m not much into planning every single detail,” Louis says with a chuckle, and Harry presses his lips together.

            “I think it’s nice to have an idea, that’s all,” Harry explains, looking over at Louis and wondering what will happen to them. Harry can see Louis far into his future, and Louis can barely grasp onto a year from now. “Let’s head back, maybe we can bike into town and grab some lunch at one of the deli’s,” Harry suggests, helping Louis to his feet and wiping the sand off of both of their bums before heading back.

 

            “I love little towns like this,” Harry comments as they nibble on their sandwiches and walk through the quant town.

            “Yeah, it’s sweet. A bit too domestic for me, if I’m honest,” Louis adds before taking a big bite of his sandwich, Harry watching him fondly.

            “Domestic isn’t bad,” Harry replies, and Louis shrugs. In moments like these, Harry strongly remembers that Louis is 21 and Harry is 29, and his thoughts turn into a jumble of what if’s.

            Louis doesn’t add anything further onto the conversation, only he continues to nibble on his sandwich, soaking up the nice summer sun and breeze. He’s glowing, truly. Seeing Louis when it’s not during school is magical. He’s gained just a bit of weight, only a bit more filled out with a little tummy that Harry kisses lots. His eye bags are gone, although his eyes still crinkle just as much when he smiles. His skin is more luminous, it has always been so beautiful but now it practically glows. Harry can’t help but fall further in love with this carefree boy, who no longer has to stress over tests but instead spends his times finding more ways to make Harry adore him. Or at least that’s what it seems like he does, because it’s working.

           

            They stay in town long enough to eat dinner at a local café, sipping hot tea and eating warm soup and fresh salad as they observe the locals. Louis nudges Harry’s ankle under the table, flashing him a cheeky smile and Louis raises an eyebrow.

            “Remember when you got us kicked out of that café by laughing at the slam poetry?” Louis asks, giggling cutely.

            “Good times,” Harry replies fondly, reaching across the table and grabbing Louis’ hands and kissing his knuckles.

            “You really tried to hate me,” Louis teases, squeezing Harry’s hands.

            “But I love you now, don’t I?” Harry asks, brushing his thumb over the back of Louis’ hands. “I love you very much, in fact,” Harry admits, looking over at Louis sweetly.

            “I love you, too,” Louis replies, smiling. “Let’s head back, yeah. I want to have sex,” Louis adds on. Yet another reason Harry loves Louis, he says what he’s thinking now. No more games like in the beginning of their relationship, everything feels so grown up, even while they’re giggling like teenagers as they run through town on their way to go jump each other’s bones.

 

.

 

            Louis sighs of contentment when the hot water pelts his skin, and his insides still tingle from the hour on intimacy with Harry. Harry joins him in the shower soon after, his post-orgasm smile on his face as Louis gets some shampoo in his palm and begins massaging the man’s scalp and grungy hair from all the sea water. Harry closes his eyes happily as Louis kneads the pads of his fingers into Harry’s scalp. He grabs Harry’s arms and guides him underneath the water, telling Harry to keep his eyes closed while massaging all of the suds out. Louis grabs conditioner next, lathering up the short ends of Harry’s hair before rinsing it out again. Louis makes sure all the soap is off of the mans’ face before telling him to open his eyes.

            “You’re beautiful,” Harry mumbles, rubbing his hands across Louis’ pretty tummy and then resting them on his wide hips. Louis has a few hickeys and marks scattered across his stomach from Harry. Harry can’t help himself. Louis blushes ever so slightly, grabbing the loofa and lathering it up with soap.

            Harry grabs it from him, rubbing it along Louis’ chest and arms delicately. Harry takes extra time on Louis’ tummy, and his sides. Then he takes even longer on Louis’ bum, using his bare hands to knead over it for a few moments. Louis flutters his eyes closed, letting out a soft noise and Harry’s hands travel down Louis’ thighs and legs, scrubbing there. Harry wraps his arms around the soapy boy, pulling them both under the hot water, the steam now filling up the entire room. Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest, more than content with Harry pressed against him and his hands wandering all over him.

            “You’re really something else Louis, god. You’re… you’re perfect, I swear,” Harry mumbles, squeezing Louis once. Louis pulls away just enough to move his lips against Harry’s, molding them together and moving them in sync for a few moments.

            After, Louis turns off the tap, grabbing a towel, drying himself of quickly before throwing it to Harry to use. He crashes in the bed naked, smiling contently.

            “No pajamas?” Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head, already planning on having sex with Harry the next morning. So, Harry joins him in the bed, naked, and cuddles with him under the covers.

 

.

 

            They start off the morning pleasantly satisfied, and decide to go on a morning swim as well after a nice fruit platter that they make up together. They continue their day with a nice stroll, then another swim, more sex. They really are living the luxurious life.

 


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of their summer goes smoothly. They take weekend trips across the country, spend lazy nights and days at their places. They read books together, Louis on Harry’s lap while they take turn reading poems to each other. Sometimes they go into town wearing big hats and scarves just to hold hands in public. They laugh so hard their sides hurt as they swing their arms between them.

Even when school starts, things still go well. Louis is either spending the night at Harry’s or Harry is spending the night at Louis’. Louis’ classes aren’t too hard, although he doesn’t have a class with Harry this semester. Things are still really good. They stay up late talking, they do their work together, their arms linked as they write. Everything is really, really good.

Until the Dean personally calls Louis into his office.

 

Louis slowly takes a seat, even the chair is intimidating. Everything is intimidating. His hands are shaking like a leaf after a brisk breeze. The Dean sauntered slowly around the desk until he finally sat down, it took him long enough. His lips are pursed. Louis distracted himself by mentally making fun of his receding hairline, although it wasn’t helping him feel any better in the least

It seems like another decade until the Dean finally speaks. He leans back in his desk, like when someone is about to be fired in the movies. His fingers are tapping on the arm of the chair. His mouth opens, it must be rusty after all of this time because it takes a few seconds before any words actually come out.

            “Louis, you are a prized student at this university. It saddens and astonishes me that you have to be in my office on these terms. Now, I’m sure you know what I’m referencing to.” His voice is monotone, not even a hint of emotion. Louis was holding his breath, but lets it out in one big puff to respond.

            “I think I can infer what this is in reference to,” Louis admits, his voice smaller than he anticipated.

            “Your relations with Professor Styles-“

            “It’s not illegal or against the rules. I read that handbook cover to cover, so if you’re trying to kick me out or fire Harry, you can’t.” Louis’ outburst surprises not only the Dean, but himself. He might’ve been too quick to defend himself, maybe he should have just listened before getting too filled with emotion.

            “Yes, Mr. Tomlinson, I am aware. However, it is greatly frowned upon, as you can imagine.” Louis’ throat is burning. It starts down low and starts creeping up until it’s right there in his mouth. His jaw is aching from being clenched, he tries his best to relax but he physically can’t. There are tears stuck behind his eyes, barely staying still like a glass of water that’s been filled above the brim to create a bubble. He’s digging his nails into his wrists to focus on something other than the need to cry. Specifically, cry while Harry comforts him.

            “It shocks me. You two are both valued here, I don’t know how this has happened.” He’s shaking his head in disbelief and pure disappointment, the older man glancing down at his lap for just a few moments before boring his eyes back into Louis.

            “Why am I here?” Louis asks quietly, tapping his foot quickly as another distraction.

            “I obviously cannot force you to end the relationship, but I encourage you to. If you do continue it, another soul cannot find out about this. You’re dismissed.” Shivers run down Louis’’ spine and as he practically bolts out of the office, past the secretary with a concerned look, bumping into fellow students down the hall, and finally reaching the door that he has wanted to see for what feels like a lifetime. He bursts in, as always, and Harry has a solemn look on his face. He doesn’t ask questions when Louis bursts into tears, practically crumbling to the floor. Instead, He carries him to the couch and wraps himself around Louis as he curls up.

            Louis’ hiccupping out tears, properly ugly crying and he’s so fucking embarrassed. He holds his breath, resting his hand on his chest until his heart beat calms down. He exhales, and tries to speak.

            “I-I care… ab-b-bout you so m-much,” Louis stutters, hiccupping as well. Harry shushes him, rubbing his back and bringing Louis back into his chest. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the tears that roll down his own cheeks. He already cried, he doesn’t need to cry anymore. He kisses the top of Louis’s head, rocking the delicate boy in his hands.

            “You’re my baby,” Harry whispers into the hair, rocking until Louis’ breathing steadies. They were rocking for a long time.

            “Just look at what the thought of us having to split up does to me, Harry. I don’t want that, I want us. I want us so badly and this doesn’t even make sense, but I love you,” Louis practically whines, his voice quivering.

            “I want us, too, Louis. I don’t want to lose you,” Harry says softly, holding Louis’ face in his hands. He watches Louis’ face get slightly squished in his grasp, and smiles fondly. “I look at you, and I’m home. I’m not ready to give that up. Not now, not never,” Harry coos fondly, causing Louis to smile so wide his eyes get lost behind all the crinkles, but Louis’ smile is quickly followed by more tears.

            “My love, my love, my love,” Harry exclaims, peppering kisses along Louis’ damp face as he chants the sweet words. They stay like that for a while. Both of them clinging onto one another, scared someone may come in to burst this beautiful bubble of theirs and ruin everything

 

.                      

 

            “I’m sorry, Harry, I just really need to work on my homework. I wish we could do something tonight,” Louis says, lingering by the doorway. Harry’s eyebrows furrow, and he finally makes his way across the room to Louis.

            “That’s fine, why don’t you come over and we can have a study night in?” Harry suggests, holding Louis’ hands in his, pressing his lips together when Louis’ eyes still don’t meet his.

            “I need to be at my place tonight, all of my school stuff is there,” Louis explains quickly, briefly glancing towards Harry.

            “Then I can come over to your place.” Louis shakes his head, sighing.

            “I really need some quiet time; I’m really stressed about this test. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Louis quickly pecks Harry’s lips, their lips barely even touching, before walking out the door. The warmth from Louis’ hands in his still lingers. Harry gazes down, looking at his empty hands palm up. What is he missing?

 

            The next day, Louis simply sits in Harry’s office during their daily lunch date and takes notes on a book he’s reading. He doesn’t say anything and he barely even looks at Harry, embedding himself fully with his notetaking. Harry even purposely says things to try to provoke him, mentioning Ted Hughes positively. Louis doesn’t even blink. Harry presses his lips together in a firm line. It’s not that he needs attention. It’s simply unusual when Louis doesn’t give him any attention. Harry reminds himself that Louis is stressed. Still, Louis’ insistence that he can’t hangout and now his refusal to contribute to their lunch conversations unsettles Harry.

            This behavior continues on when Louis makes his usual stop into Harry’s office before they head home for the day. He barely makes eye contact, pretending to be occupied with something on his phone. When Harry’s phone rings, Louis dismisses himself with a quick peck on the cheek.

Louis doesn’t stop by again, so Harry goes home alone for the first time in months. Harry sends him a text reading, _Miss you x,_ only to get no response.

 

            Harry definitely thinks he’s overreacting. Especially now that he’s at Louis’ front door, looking at the wooden structure. It has only been two days of weird behavior. Normal people go through weird phases. But, the lack of communication is driving him absolutely crazy, especially since he was so happy that Louis was finally speaking his mind fully and not keeping any silly secrets. If something was upsetting Louis, he’d burst into tears. If something was angering Louis, he’d start yelling. If Louis needed something, he’d say it/ Louis isn’t able to hide his emotions, especially towards Harry.

            Harry thinks of all of this in his head, while right outside Louis’ flat. All of these unanswered questions drive Harry to knock on the door, gripping the flowers and to-go box filled with Louis’ favorite meal from his favorite restaurant. Louis answers, his hair disheveled, gray sweatpants, a plain white shirt, and red tired eyes. This isn’t the typical just woke up look. It’s more like just-woke-up-from-a-night-of-crying look. Harry isn’t even properly invited inside before he’s stepping in, setting his gifts down on the kitchen counter before embracing Louis in his arms. Harry’s waiting for the tears to penetrate his shirt, where Louis’ head is resting, but nothing happens. He pulls away, looking down at Louis and trying to read his face. He looks conflicted, and nervous.

            “Louis, talk to me,” Harry says, holding Louis by the shoulders and forcing him to look at him. Louis remains quiet, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I’m not asking, I’m telling.” Harry feels like a kindergarten teacher now, making a 5-year-old tell the truth about an incident on the playground.

            “Harry, I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Louis responds, avoiding revealing anything.

            “You could start by explaining why you’ve been acting so strangely the past few days.” With a sigh, Louis turns away, twisting his shoulders out of Harry’s grasp and moving towards the couch. He sits down in the corner, pulling his knees to his chest and Harry follows after him quickly.

            “M’scared,” Louis says quietly, resting his chin on his knees and tilting his head to look at Harry. “I don’t want to ruin your career and ….” Louis speaks very slowly, trying to choose his words correctly. “And…. I feel like every time we …. interact …. it makes things worse.”

            “Babe, we already talked about this. Are you having second thoughts?” Harry asks, swallowing audibly. He interlaces his own hands together, not sure where to put them as he leaves them awkwardly resting on his lap.

            “No… I just feel like shit anytime I walk by the Dean or even his office while I’m on my way to see you.” Louis’ keeping himself composed, not wanting to ruin his train of thought with an explosion of tears.

            “He doesn’t know what we have Louis, he’ll never understand,” Harry reassures, reaching out to place a hand on Louis’ back.

            “But should he? I mean, our situation isn’t really something anyone should understand. Besides, are we even going anywhere? What happens after I graduated? I can’t imagine you’d want to marry me,” Louis questions, leaving Harry feeling quite personally attacked.

            “You’re wrong. I can see it. The fact that we are even able to have this conversation shows we’d be perfect. Louis, I’m willing to plan my life around you and I know you are too,” Harry says boldly. Louis’ eyes widen, and he quickly looks away. Fuck, fuck fuck. Harry said too much, he shouldn’t have seemed so sure about them getting married in the future. “I know… I know you’re still in college and these things don’t come to mind as much as they may for me but…” Harry doesn’t know where his sentence is going.

            “Exactly, wouldn’t you want someone who is actually ready for commitment?” Louis asks, burying his face in his knees so that his words are muffled. “God, Harry. I don’t even know what I want to do with my regular life, let alone my love life,” Louis admits frantically, poking his head out to look over at Harry.

            “Why would I when I’ve found you? I love you and am willing to wait. I don’t expect you to be ready, Louis. You don’t have to be for this to work right now. Do you see yourself considering us getting married in the future?” Louis thinks for a minute, as if he’s imagining how their life would be if they go married. He turns his head to look at Harry, and nods softly. “Okay, then that’s all I need.”

            “I’ve never had someone to care about me the way you do to the point where …. where their future plan involves me,” Louis says softly, letting his knees fall as he rests his head on Harry’s shoulder instead.

            “You are my future,” Harry corrects quietly, finally comfortable enough to wrap his arms around Louis and pull him close. “I love you,” Harry adds on softly.

            “I love you too,” Louis says, his voice still a bit off but Harry’s so content to have Louis in his arms he doesn’t even notice. He holds Louis likes this until he falls asleep on the couch, but Louis remains awake.

 

            The next morning, Harry peppers Louis’ face with kisses before he leaves. On Fridays, he only has one class but normally has a few meetings. Louis says he’ll visit him if he’s not too busy, but doesn’t make any promises. Harry ends up being late to work due to his persistent kissing and refusals to leave. When he finally does leave, Louis slumps down on his couch wishing he could fall asleep.

 

Harry instantly smiles when he walks through the door of his house to see Louis standing there. But it turns into a frown when he sees the worried expression on Louis’ face, and notices his pacing. Louis’ head snaps over at him when Harry sets his keys down. His legs halt, his hands still fumbling with one another.

Harry walks over to him, and before he speaks the words begin flowing out of Louis’ mouth. He practiced this for hours, he can’t lose his opportunity to say it.

"I feel like, like I'm too vulnerable around you. I feel like I want to give you everything but I'm too scared to. I feel like ... I don't know how to be in a relationship. And I'm scared to mess things up because it's so good right now." Harry opens his mouth to say something but before he can, Louis speaks up again. The truth is pouring out and he can't seem to stop it now. "I need space. I know that sounds like we're on a break or breaking up but it's not, I promise. I need to be alone but not romantically alone. Does that make sense? I need time because I love you too much and that wouldn't be such a bad thing if I actually understood it." When Harry grabs Louis' hands, they're trembling. Louis is standing there, holding back tears. Harry is standing there, holding back tears. They're both standing there, gazing into each other's eyes while trying to hold back tears. Harry nods solemnly, "Okay," He speaks lowly. Louis untangles their fingers and leaves, walking out of Harry's front door. Not to be cliché or anything, but Harry feels as if he's taken his entire soul and heart with him. 

            Maybe he said ‘okay’ because he wasn’t expecting Louis to walk out without another word. He was expecting one last thing. Maybe a goodbye or a kiss or anything to make this not feel like a fucking break up. Yes, Louis explicitly told him this was not a break up but that definitely does not help right now.

 

.

 

            Monday morning, Harry goes to class. It’s the first class of the day. He takes a deep breath before stepping in the classroom to face the students that have no idea what’s going on. They don’t know. They don’t know that he hasn’t been able to talk to the love of his life all weekend and it’s tearing him apart. Yes, he even stopped by Louis’ flat Saturday night only to not get a response. Yes, Louis was inside and cried after looking through the peephole. Louis hates himself and Harry should hate him too but he can’t bring himself to feel that emotion towards him.

            “Okay, class. Pull out your homework, let’s have a discussion. No need to raise your hands, just call out what you thought of the poems,” Harry states plainly, leaning against the front of his desk.

            A handful of the class talk, probably arguing the meaning of the poem. Harry doesn’t listen, he nods every now and then to appear to be listening. He doesn’t come out of his daze until the class falls silent. He blinks a few times, and looks around. Everyone is looking at him, confused.

            “Alright, class,” He starts, grabbing a marker and walking towards the board. “Today, I thought I’d give you some background. Some of you may know this, bear with me. There is a widely used extended metaphor in poetry. Using seasons as a metaphor for age.” Teaching is surprisingly distracting him nicely. He writes ‘spring’, ‘summer’, ‘fall’, ‘winter’ on the board. “Now, can anyone guess what spring is?” His ears twitch when two people begin giggling in the back, clearly having their own conversation. Harry pauses, waiting while staring at them. When it doesn’t cease, it speaks up.

            “Excuse me, would you care to share what is so funny to the class?” Harry asks, his voice louder and it booms through the classroom. The anger coursing through him turns to sadness which brings him back to Louis and suddenly he thinks he may collapse.

            “Class dismissed,” Harry chokes out, turning his back to the class and looking at the whiteboard. There’s silence, nobody moves.

            “I said, class dismissed!” Harry yells, and shuffling and zippers fill the room in one big flush until silence pursues quickly after. Harry cries a soft cry, with lots of sniffling and hot tears. The salty tears make his eyes burn.

 

A week later, there is persistent knocking on Harry's front door at two in the morning. When Harry opens it and sees Louis, he should be furious. The only thing Louis says is, "I think we should break up.” Oh, that’s what this feels like. Harry feels his heart physically drop in his chest.

“Can we talk about it?” Harry asks, his voice cracking while staring at Louis, his Louis, on his doorstep.

“That would make things harder,” Louis whispers, looking up at Harry with his round eyes.

“Can I ask why?” Harry pleads, bottom lip trembling.

“You know why,” Louis whispers, and Harry feels a few tears roll down because he does know why. He knows that there’s nothing he can do to change or fix their circumstances. He knows that they were destined to fail from the beginning, and that they should have never been together to begin with.

And Louis walks away, disappearing into the night with his bare feet and sweater that Harry is almost positive is one of his. And Harry lays in bed alone, holding a pillow to his chest and crying because it smells like Louis.  


	17. Chapter 17

So, after over a year of knowing each other and close to a year of romantic interest, it’s over. It ends with just a few simple words, and neither of the boys leave feeling the same. Midterms come around, and Louis no longer has a comfy couch to take naps on to recover. Instead, he walks by Harry’s office and keeps his gaze at the floor, not risking the possibility of catching Harry’s eye through the window. He passes his midterms with flying colors, and his academic life is brilliant.

            In order to distract himself from Harry, he pours himself into his studies. He stays at the library until eleven, and when he gets back to his flat he immediately goes to sleep to keep his mind from wandering. However, more often than not, he is unable to go to sleep, and lies there for hours and imagine the sensation of Harry’s arms around him. His bed still reeks of Harry’s smell, and he often finds himself curling up on the carpet with a fresh blanket from the linen closet instead. But one night, he peers under the bed and finds one of Harry’s old flannels, and cries while clutching it to his chest.

            He tries so hard. He’s always studying, or doing work, but soon he does so much that he has no other work left and he’s memorized every single detail for all of his classes. So, he begins to read. But he used to always read with Harry’s and he’d give anything to be sitting on Harry’s lap right now while he rereads the Divine Comedy. He glances at his phone, contemplating before sighing, searching the library shelves for another book to hopefully distract him.

 

            Harry becomes an unapproachable stone face. All of his students are distraught at his sudden change, and lack of in class discussion. Now, Harry does a pop quiz at the beginning of class while he collects himself, and then lectures the rest and it bores his student. His voice is often monotone, no longer feeling the excitement he once did while talking about Ted Hughes. And when he grades it bothers him, because nobody is as good as Louis. Nobody will ever be as good as Louis.

            He locks the office door behind him, a habit of his, sits at his desk, and cries. He’s been trying not to feel bad for himself, but how can he not? The perfect boy just let him, he was everything Harry wanted and more. He shared his passion for literature, but was able to debate his opinions. It gave him his spark back, helping him remember why he became a professor. Louis was kind and compassionate, his was the most gentle person he’s ever met. He was… Louis. He was Louis and he was perfect, and Harry wish he could discover one single flaw about the boy so maybe he heart could ache a little less. But, Harry can never think of one. Even if he did find one, he knows it would be something that would only make Harry love him more.

            Harry looks around the office, and realizes he can’t stay here. He can’t stay here and be tortured any longer by all the memories that bombard him every time he retreats to his office. So, he pulls out his laptop, and begins doing some research, hoping to find his escape.

 

.

 

            Louis trudges on in the semester, and much to his surprise, other students try to flirt with him. It starts off as them wanting to get some help from Louis, so they set up a time to study in the library together. Then they always suggest something else later in the week. Some keep it casual, and suggest tea, while other flat out ask him to dinner. It’s awkward, when Louis declines, his heart to tender to even give someone a second glance right now. And that’s when Louis begins to avoid everyone altogether. He doesn’t speak to people in his classes, stops raising his hands to share his opinions or correct his professors. He just stops.

            “Louis, may I speak with you?” His American Literature professor, Dr. Harber, asks before Louis is able to make his escape out the door. “I don’t normally like to dabble in the personal lives of students, but are you alright?” That questions brings tears to Louis’ eyes, and he’s not sure why, but he blinks them away quickly.

            “Yes, of course,” Louis replies, his face remaining plain.

            “You were so lively in the beginning of the semester, and you’re very well-known in the English department as being very opinionated, not in a bad way, of course,” Dr. Harber explains, and Louis nods, not quite sure how to respond. Like, _I’m extremely sad because I had to break up with your colleague, Professor Styles, whom I had been seeing for nearly a year._ Louis sighs at the thought of him, and excuses himself before walking out of the classroom.

            He sulks back to the library, taking the long way to avoid Harry’s office, and going to the back room with all the special works of literature. What Louis doesn’t expect to find there is Harry, and sure enough the man is browsing through the books. It’s been a month since Louis’ last seen him, and his heart stops and he can’t help but gasp a little. Harry spins around, book in hand, and clumsily he drops it. “Sorry,” Harry mutters, and Louis steps forward to retrieve the book, handing it to the man. And they’re there, right there in front of one another. “Sorry,” Harry repeats, as if it’s the only word he knows now.

            “It’s okay,” Louis whispers, knowing he should probably be the one apologizing. That’s when he sees Harry’s red rimmed eyes, and Harry notices the dark bags under Louis’ eyes. Two features the pairs didn’t notice about themselves, but they’ve become permanently placed for the time being. “What are you reading?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice even.

            “The Great Gatsby,” Harry responds, frowning a bit.

            “A tragic romance,” Louis says quietly, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes and blinking a few times.

            “As most are,” Harry responds solemnly, and Louis looks down at his feet and sighs, fidgeting with his hands and suddenly his brain is making his mouth speak and he’s not quite sure if it’s voluntary.       

            “Can you come over tonight? Just one more night,” Louis asks quickly, looking up at Harry with concerned, and sad eyes. Louis’ practically pleading, he needs Harry lying against him one more time or he feels as if his heart might burst.

            “One more night,” Harry repeats. “I’ll be over at nine,” Harry replies, putting the book back on the shelf and walking out.

 

            Louis gets home far before his usual time of eleven that night, he gets home at seven and starts straightening up his flat. He hides all of the things Harry left behind in the closet, washes and dries the sheets, tides up the lounge, wipes down the kitchen counters. Then, he slips on his best panties underneath some trackie pants and a tight scoop neck shirt. Harry knocks just in time, and Louis nearly runs to the door to open it. And Harry is there, looking as serious as ever as Louis invites him inside.

            They drift to the couch, sitting next to each other, but not pressed up against one another like they used to. There’s a few minutes of silence, the two stealing glances at each other, before Harry makes the first move. He runs his hands across Louis’ sides and over his stomach, sad to find the small pouch of fat on Louis’ stomach has been burned off. He knows Louis must be overworking himself.

            Louis watches Harry touch him closely, absorbing every second of it. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ slender waist, pulling him close against his chest, smelling him as the scents in his house and office have begun to fade. He smells of vanilla sweetness, and Harry closes his eyes to take it in for a few moments longer.

            After a few minutes of this intimate embrace, Harry cups Louis’ chin and kisses him. He forgot how sweet his lips are, and he sucks on Louis’ bottom lip and they both let out sweet sounds. Harry licks into Louis’ mouth, and Louis relaxes his jaw and lets Harry tongue in. They keep up at that, Harry’s tongue exploring Louis’ pliant mouth. Louis reaches down a  few minutes in and cups Harry’s crotch, massaging the hardness there. “Bedroom?” Louis pleads quietly, Harry picking him up and carrying him there.

            They strip down, and Harry admires every single centimeter of Louis’ being, dropping down to nuzzle his face into Louis’ flat stomach and kissing there. He misses seeing his marks scattered across Louis, so he sucks a few in, wanting Louis to see them in the mirror and think of Harry. He sucks suck up Louis’ chest and even one on the boys’ neck. Louis lets him, he closes his eyes and lets out breathy noises as Harry feels him and kisses him all over.

            “I need you,” Louis whines, and Harry takes care of him.

            He opens Louis up nicely, and he’s tight and it reassures Harry that Louis hasn’t been with anyone else. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to bear that thought right now. Harry’s gentle, making love to Louis, whispering sweet things to him. Louis clings onto Harry, letting tears fall down that are partly from pleasure and partly from how much he misses Harry.

            They come together, the pair hold onto each other through their orgasms. Harry fetches something to clean them up, and Louis curls up and cries. Harry hesitates, but lies down behind Louis, wrapping his arms around the boy. Louis calms down eventually, and his eyelids droop, and he falls asleep soundly for the first time since he left Harry.

 

            Harry is gone in the morning, his side of the bed is even cold when Louis wakes up, and Louis sighs, rolling on his back and looking up at the ceiling. He finds a note though, and quickly reaches for it.

_I will never forget last night._

_All the love,_

           

            Over the course of the rest of fall term, Louis caves many more times and Harry ends up at Louis’ place far more times that he expected. Every time is more passionate, more fiery than the last. harry never takes it for granted, because Louis always swears that this time is the last time, and one day that will be true.

            “I’ll be teaching at Reading University starting Spring term,” Harry announces one night as they lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling.

Louis’ heart drops, Harry’s going to be teaching at a different university, and it’s not even far from here. His commute will probably be the same. This should be a good thing, right? They could be together without consequences. But, Louis can’t ask that of Harry. He can’t break his heart again. He isn’t ready for the things that Harry wants, however Louis thinks he would marry Harry right now if it meant they’d be together. Although, that isn’t really the reason two people should get married.

            “Will you be moving for your new job?” Louis asks, trying to keep Harry by his side in bed as long as he can. Louis knows when he falls asleep, Harry will be gone.

            “No, the commute isn’t that bad,” Harry replies, and Louis can’t help but smile, pleased. But his smile fades, and the guilt sets in. He can’t ask Harry to take him back, he can’t do that to him.

            “I want to marry you,” Louis blurts out, eyes filling with tears.

            “No, you don’t,” Harry responds immediately, turning to face the teary-eyed boy. “You don’t want marriage and you’re not ready for it either.” Louis cries more, hiding his face in a pillow, and Harry rubs his back while he calms down.

The touch isn’t even reassuring because he knows Harry isn’t his, and he probably never will be again. Louis ruined the one thing that could’ve been something great, and now it doesn’t even exist anymore. The only place that Louis and Harry exist together anymore is hiding beneath the sheets.

            Tonight, Harry leaves before Louis falls asleep, and that night Louis doesn’t sleep at all.

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

            Spring semester is horrendous for Louis. Harry may have been able to escape the humiliation once the rumors started, but Louis is right in the pit of them. After winter break, Louis came back to strange glances from professors and fellow students. It confused him for a week, until he started hearing bits and pieces of people’s conversations behind him in class or as he stood in line at the university café.

            All of the conversations circulated around his and Harry’s little affair, or at least that’s how they see it. They see Louis as a fraud, that he merely slept with his professors to earn his spot as valedictorian. People thought of Louis and Harry as a fling, just sex. But Louis loved him, and still did, but now he couldn’t go crying to him for comfort. He had nobody, and he felt even more isolated than before.

            He worked harder though, as if to prove to others and mostly himself that he is the best. That he deserved that number one spot and that he is going to get it no matter what. He stopped speaking in class though, and refrained from drawing any attention to himself. His heart felt empty as he filled his head with more knowledge and occupied his hands with more essays to write.

            The first few weeks of class went by and the chatter came to a stop, but people still didn’t sit next to Louis in class and his male professors still gave him weird looks while his female professors seemed repulsed. Louis often hid in the back of the class, squinting to see the notes written up on the board and listening as best as he could.

            His mum got so worried she left the kids with Louis’ step-dad and came to take care of Louis as if he was five-years-old again. Louis needed it though, although he’d object every time mum made a run to school to drop off Louis’ lunch, Louis claiming to have forgotten it. Louis’ fridge is now always full and his bed always made. His flat is no longer a dark abyss only used for sleeping, his mum keeps the drapes open and bought fresh flowers every few days. On a nice day, she’d even crack open the windows and let the breeze in.

            And when she heard Louis crying in the room next to hers at night, she’d come in and sit at the edge of the bed next to Louis. She’d grab the book on Louis’ nightstand, as there was always one there, and begin reading although she did not comprehend fully what she was reading. Then she’d kiss Louis’ temple, and never ask questions or speak of it the next morning, although this was an often occurrence.

            Louis gained back his summer break tummy though, thanks to his mum, looking at it in the mirror and remembering how Harry would kiss it and leave marks all over it. His eye bags re still very present, his cheeks a bit more hollow from lack of sleep. But, he’s healthy, and he was acing all of his classes.

 

            Louis went to his Asian Literature class, as he always does Monday and Wednesday mornings. He sat in the back, as he always does, and takes good notes on the lecture, and pays very close attention. The only thing differently, is that the Professor requests to speak to him after class. It’s the weirdest thing, truly, since none of his Professors have even muttered a single word to him the entire semester.

            “How’d you feel about doing something for extra credit?” The man asks when the rest of the class leaves.

            “I already have a one hundred percent in your class, sir,” Louis explains, fiddling with his back-pack straps and looking down at his feet.

            “C’mon Louis, don’t play dumb. You’re a fit, smart young lad. Whad’ya say?” And Louis’ repulsed, is this his reputation? Do all the professor’s think he’s just some slut boy? Louis furrows his brows, feeling his chest tighten and he forces himself to look up at his Professor.

            “I’d much rather die.” And Louis walks out, and he keeps walking, and he finds himself outside of Harry’s old office which is now occupied by a stranger. Louis forces out a breath, and continues walking as he feels the tears coming.

            He passes the Dean’s office and he barely looks in and sees Harry there, his Harry. His Harry, who is walking out right towards Louis, and Louis is crying and his nose is runny. He does the only thing he can think of, which is to walk past faster, but Harry grabs his shoulder.

            Louis impulsively slaps his hand away, heart stopping as he looks around for anybody who might’ve seen. “Why are you here?” Louis asks abruptly.

            “I… I had to pick up some paperwork from the Dean. What’s wrong, what happened?” Harry asks, concerned.

            “You, that’s what happened. You got to run off to Reading while I’m stuck here while everybody knows. They _know,_ Harry,” Louis says, only because he knows the hallway is empty. His words are filled with anger, rage, and also lots of sadness and regret. But not regret for being with Harry, regret for leaving him and having to fight this battle alone.

            Louis turns around and walks away again, only this time Harry doesn’t stop him. Louis’ sure he’s made his own escape from the school so he doesn’t have to live through the Hell Louis has to every single day. Louis goes into the bathroom, looks in the mirror and realizes how terrible he looks.

            He blows his nose on some toilet paper, splashes his face with some cold water, and stands there with his eyes closed for a few minutes, hoping that will ease the redness in his eyes. After his next class, Louis goes running home crying to his mum, who makes him hot tea with just a splash of milk how he likes it.

            Louis’ mum eventually goes to the store to pick up Louis some treats to make him feel better. He’s curled up on the couch, when there’s a knock at the door. Louis groans, trudging over in his fuzzy socks, sweatpants, and baggy sweater. He swings the door open, and it’s Harry. He’s like a ghost that keeps haunting him, making him feel guilt and sadness.

            “Can we talk?” Harry asks, and Louis walks away, leaving the door open for Harry to come in. Louis combs through his hair with his fingers as he sits at the dining room table, blinking his eyes a few times. When he looks up, Harry is sitting across from him, keeping a safe distance. “If I had known I would’ve done something,” Harry says solemnly, hands resting on the table.

            “You would have just made it worse. I’m already going to fail my Asian Literature class, probably,” Louis mumbles, looking down at the table and taking in a shaky breath.

            “Why?” Harry asks, leaning in to try to analyze Louis’ face, figure out what he’s thinking. Louis stays quiet for a solid minute, letting the question drift in the air. He doesn’t even want to admit it to himself, he wants to pretend like that never happened, that he dreamt the conversation with his professor up.

            “Because my professor wants to sleep with me, but I won’t,” Louis chokes out, not even looking at Harry as he rests his head in the palm of his hands, staring down at the puddle he’s creating on the table. He gasps in a shaky breath, which is much louder than he anticipated and he feels so pathetic.

            “I should have never caved into you, Louis. I’m so sorry,” Harry whispers, not wanting to cross any boundaries by comforting Louis.

            “No, Harry. You don’t understand. Not only did I fuck up so badly that I don’t have you anymore, now I don’t have anyone. Everything was worth it when I had you,” Louis confesses, wiping his tears away with his sweater paws and forcing himself to look over at Harry. His eyes are puffy from the tears, and he feels absolutely ridiculous. “I love you so much, and every day I think about how all of this would be worth it if it meant in the end I still have you,” Louis whispers, letting out a shaky breath as his bottom lip quivers.

            “Louis…” Harry starts, frowning and his eyes are glossy and Louis may even see a few tears.

            “Don’t say it, please. I don’t want to hear you say you don’t want me,” Louis pleads, and with absolute perfect timing, Louis’ mum walks in with bags in her hands, that she nearly drops when she sees Harry. Then she sees Louis crying, rushing to set the bags down and wipe his tears, making him feel even smaller than he already does.

            “I’ll walk you downstairs, Harry,” Louis whispers, already standing up, still only wearing his fuzzy socks as Harry follows, leaving his mum behind.

            They walk down the stairs in silence, Harry only beginning to speak when they near the bottom. “I was never mad at you for breaking up with me. I knew you did it to protect me, because you loved me. You were trying to do what’s best for me, and it’s so god damn unfair that now you’re experiencing the consequences you were trying to prevent for me,” Harry says, his voice wavering a bit as he speaks, focusing his gaze on the steps. “But, I would have much rather dealt with these problems together, than to have lost you,” Harry says a bit more quietly, and they reach the bottom.

            Harry pulls Louis to face him, and cups the boys’ cheeks for a few moments, looking into his eyes and seeing the sadness and regret. Harry very very slowly leans in, until their lips touch, and Louis leans in against the man as their lips move together perfectly. “Give me time,” Harry whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

            “Don’t give me false hope, Harry,” Louis whispers back, leaning in to kiss Harry again, and Harry holds onto the back of Louis’ neck to keep their lips locked. “And don’t just be with me again because you pity me,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s lips, making a soft sound when Harry sucks down on the boys’ bottom lip.

            Harry gives Louis one final sweet kiss, staring into Louis’ eyes and giving him a reassuring look, before walking away.

            Louis thinks he’ll always consider Harry the one who got away, as he watches Harry walk out the front doors to his building.

 

.

 

            “Don’t touch me,” Louis hisses, ripping his hand away from his Asian Literature professor, Mr. Langston, making his escape out the door, covering his bum with his hands as he scurries out into the hall.

            He’s halfway through the semester, and he does his best to convince himself that he can make it through the other half. He glided through midterms with ease, earning nearly perfect scores on all of them. He’s conditioned himself to ignore the strange looks in the hall, and not be bothered when people move seats when he sits down too close to them. He takes a deep breath, and carries on with his day. Soon, he’ll escape this. Soon he can move to wherever he wants, get a quiet job and take online classes somewhere else to earn his masters, and then begin teaching at a smaller college. Things will get better, they have to.

            These thoughts don’t stop Louis from thinking of Harry when he’s taking care of himself in the shower, or when he’s cuddled up with a large pillow at night. _Give me time._ Those words haunt Louis, have been for two weeks now, and he still doesn’t know that they mean.

            Louis hums softly to himself as he walks down the streets, heading back to his now, empty flat. Louis seemed to be getting better, so his mum decided it was time to go and give Louis the chance to be okay on his own. Plus, mum was terribly missing the girls and things were getting out of hand at home without her there to supervise.

            Louis was okay though, he was as okay as he would ever be right now.

            He steps inside, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl that his mum set up for him, and taking a bit without washing it. He sits on the couch, opening up a new book he bought at a secondhand shop, and begins reading. It’s not very good, it’s actually trash. But, Louis doesn’t mind, he doesn’t mind reading about a fairytale love story that ends perfectly even though Louis now knows that is not how it works. Things don’t work out and Louis pretends that he’s okay with that, when he’s really not.

 

,

 

            Harry’s begun writing more poems, and they’re all about Louis. Harry can’t help himself, as Louis has become his greatest muse. He writes about the way Louis’ lips would part ever so slightly whenever Harry was about to lean in and kiss him. He writes about Louis’ small hands and how they felt in Harry’s. He writes about the way Louis snores quietly and nuzzles into Harry’s chest at night after a long day. The way Louis’ skin was so soft, his voice so sweet, his eyes so gentle, his body so perfect. Harry writes about how much he still loves Louis, wondering if it’s healthy to love him this much. But, he does.

            Harry takes a break, his hand hurting from all the writing, as he flips through his calendar. The words _Louis’ Graduation_ are scribbled a month from now, and Harry chews at his bottom lip as he stares at the two words. He closes his calendar, pushing it aside and leaning back in his chair, sighing. He looks around at his new office, everything feeling and looking foreign and strange. Louis hasn’t left his marks all over it like his old one, and he wishes he could look over at his couch to see Louis napping. Or see Louis browsing his books, or studying in the chair across from him, or sitting in Harry’s lap where he belongs.

            Harry sighs loudly, letting his voice fill up the empty room before he rubs his eyes, straightens his blazer, and heads off to teach his next class. Louis is on his mind the entire time, which is nothing new.

 

.

 

            Louis trudges through the rest of the semester, dodging Mr. Langston’s advances and still passing with flying colors. And after he gets through finals with ease, he has to face the very bitter Dean who informs Louis that he is officially valedictorian. Louis sighs of relief, knowing that everything is going to be okay soon. Everything is going to be okay, all he has to do is get through graduation in a week But, that mindset doesn’t last long when he has to go back to his empty flat, eat dinner along, shower alone, and go to sleep in an empty bed, again.

            Louis forces himself to do something the next day, instead of hiding in his cave that he calls a flat for the next week until graduation. So, he goes to the store to restock his fridge that has been empty for far too long. He picks up things his mom would always buy: pasta, rice, frozen vegetable mixes, fruit, yogurt, some juice, as well as easy frozen meals he can just heat up.

            He walks the few blocks back to his flat, carrying to two large and very heavy paper bags filled with food. “Here, let me help you,” A familiar voice insists, and when a bag is taken from his hand and allows him to see who it is, it’s Harry. It Harry god damn Styles and Louis is annoyed and happy at the same time.

            “God, why are you everywhere,” Louis mumbles, although he hasn’t seen him in quite a few weeks. Harry smiles, and it’s the first time he’s seen him smile since the breakup. So, Louis smiles back as they walk side by side, each holding a bag.

            Harry doesn’t look as tired and sad, but Louis knows he still has his own eye bags and sad looking face that he hasn’t been able to shake for a long time now. With time he’ll get better, at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

            “I still live here, y’know,” Harry says in his defense, opening the door to Louis’ building for him. Louis rolls his eyes while he walks in.          

            “You live across town, I know where you shop Harry, and it’s not anywhere near here,” Louis replies, pressing the button for the elevator. He’s too tired to make his limbs move any more than they have to. Harry scans Louis with his eyes as subtly as he can, but Louis still notices.

            “Maybe I shopped over here hoping I’d run into you,” Harry says softly, eyes meeting Louis’ as the elevator doors step in, and the pair walk in together. Louis’ lips falter for a second, almost curling up into a smile before he looks down, staying quiet for the ride up to his floor. Louis fumbles for his key when they step out, unlocking the door, and pushing it open with his hip. Harry follows after closely, watching Louis with those same fond eyes.

            Louis sets the bag down on the kitchen counter, Harry following, and begins unloading it. “Is your mum still here?” Harry asks casually, helping Louis put away his food.

            “No, she went back home a few weeks ago,” Louis replies, throwing his frozen meals into the freezer, shutting it behind him. “Had to help take care of everyone else,” Louis explains, looking around and making sure everything is where it needs to be, before turning his attention back to Harry. “I’ll make some tea,” Louis suggests, not sure what else to do as he puts the kettle on. Being around Harry feels strange, but so familiar at the same time. But he can’t just kiss him or hold onto him like he used to.

            “How’d you do in school?” Harry asks, filling in the silence.

            “I’m officially valedictorian,” Louis says softly, and Harry immediately smiles widely.

            “That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you,” He says quietly, giving Louis those fond eyes again that make his heart melt and break at the same time.

            “Yeah, I uh, I have to give a speech and everything. So, that’ll be interesting,” Louis explains, leaning against the counter while he waits for the kettle, playing with his fingers and looking down at the ground. He only looks back up when the kettle begins whistling, grabbing two mugs and pouring the hot water, and then dipping a tea bag in each.

            He fixes up Harry’s tea the way he likes it, opting to drink his plain today. “Can we talk… like we used to?” Harry asks, holding his mug between his hands, staring across the room at Louis, who is taking a sip of the scolding tea.

            “I don’t know how to do that anymore,” Louis admits, blowing into his hot mug, closing his eyes as the steam billows up into his face.

            “You used to tell me what you were thinking, always. I could pour my heart out to you,” Harry explains, although Louis already knows.

            “My mind is a mess, I can’t even tell what I’m thinking anymore,” Louis mumbles, opening his eyes to stare across at Harry.

            “You know,” Harry replies.

            “I do,” Louis confesses, staring down at his dark tea. “I suppose I’m hoping that now that I’ve graduated, something may happen. Whether it’s good or bad, I need something to happen. I’d much prefer something good, though,” Louis says, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. He takes another sip of his tea.

            “Tell me more.”

            “It’s your turn, first,” Louis requests.            

            “I think about you all the time. I’ve started writing poems about you. I daydream all the time about you, simple things, imagining if you were there with me in the moment. I think about being with you, and marrying you, and spending my life with you,” Harry pours out, hands gripping onto his mug as he looks into Louis’ beautiful eyes.

            “You can think I’m lying all you want, but I think about marrying you, too. It sounds silly, talking about it with you now, under these circumstances,” Louis states, sighing to himself. “But, life seems so much happier with you,” Louis whispers the last part, taking a long sip of his tea, letting the hot liquid sting his mouth.

            “I don’t think you’re lying when you say that anymore,” Harry says, taking his first sip of the warm tea, before setting the mug down on the counter. Harry walks over slowly, holding Louis’ face. He doesn’t kiss him though, he runs his thumbs under Louis’ tired eyes and frowns. “Still haven’t been sleeping well?” Harry asks, and Louis shakes his head, hoping Harry can’t hear his heart pounding in chest.

            “Why don’t you lie down for a bit, I’ll come with you,” Harry suggests, and Louis very much likes that idea.

            So, they climb into Louis’ bed, and Harry cuddles against Harry’s chest. Harry wraps his arms around him, stroking the boys; back until he drifts to sleep. He watches him sleep fondly for the whole afternoon, touching him gently on the face occasionally. He only leaves to make dinner, bringing it to Louis, who is awake in bed.

            They eat together, and leave their dirty dishes on the side table. Louis cuddles back up against Harry, closing his eyes once again and drifting off in Harry’s arms. Harry continues to admire Louis, until his own eyes grow tired and he begins yawning frequently. He lets himself fall asleep, and the next morning Louis wakes up feeling well-rested in the first time in months. He also wakes up with Harry besides him for the first time in a very long time.

 

            All good things come to an end, and Harry leaves the next morning to attend some meetings at school. And Louis gets off in his bed, imagining his fingers are Harry instead, his small hand wrapped around his cock. He sighs happily when he finally gets off, lying in his own stickiness for a few minutes before finally padding to the shower and scrubbing himself clean.


	19. Chapter 19

_Meet me at Oxford in ten? – H_

            Louis looks confused when he gets the text. It’s around ten at night, and tomorrow Louis graduates. He only saw Harry a few days ago, but they haven’t spoken since. Louis gets dressed, though, and makes his way to the university in the dark, and finds Harry standing at the front gates.

            “I never gave my key back,” Harry says, scanning his badge and the doors click open, and they step inside the completely empty building.

            “Why are we here?” Louis asks, the halls that once gave him so much joy now only remind him of his pain. Harry doesn’t answer, he grabs a hold of Louis’ hand instead, and leads him down the quiet hallways. Their footsteps echo in the vacant halls, the only other sound is their breathing.

            They stop in front of a door that’s all too familiar. The classroom where they met. Harry unlocks that door as well, and Louis steps inside, feeling a bit nervous and shaken up. “You sat right here,” Harry says, walking up in front of the desk, still holding onto Louis’ hand. “The first thing you ever said to me was bashing Ted Hughes, remember?” Harry asks, looking over at Louis who nods quietly. “This is where we fell in love,” Harry continues, and Louis closes his eyes for a brief second to collect himself, and when he opens them Harry pulls him in close.

“I want you so badly,” Harry mumbles, fumbling with the hem of Louis’ shirt, waiting for approval from the petite boy. Louis nods once, already starting to unbutton Harry’s shirt.

Harry pulls Louis’ shirt off over his head, and shrugs off his own shirt that Louis has unbuttoned. Louis is working his fingers to unbuckles Harry’s belt and unzip his pants. When they fall to the floor, Louis begins palming Harry’s growing bulge through his black boxers. Harry groans, holding onto Louis’ sides. Harry picks Louis up, supporting his weight by gripping his ass, and carries him to the desk up front. The desk Harry would always stand at, and sit at before class started.

Louis’ heart is thudding in his chest, and Harry can feel it. He slows down a bit, pulling back an inch to see Louis’ wide doe eyes looking up at him. His lips slightly parted, and Harry can’t help but kiss those beautiful lips after writing about them for so long. Harry runs his hands along Louis’ tummy, there’s only the tiniest amount of chub, but Harry loves it all the same. Harry runs his hands along Louis’ clothed thighs before pulling Louis’ pants off, Louis wearing plain black boxers.

Harry holds onto Louis’ sides, slowly laying him down on the desk, and he can see Louis’ hands shaking slightly. Louis lifts his hips up to help Harry when he pulls the boys’ boxers off, leaving Louis feeling very vulnerable, especially when Harry’s hands are between his thighs.

“Wait,” Louis gasps out, reaching down to hold onto Harry’s wrist. “Y-you have to be gentle. I… I haven’t been with someone in a long time,” Louis admits, his eyes worried as he looks up at Harry.

“How long?” Harry can’t resist asking, rubbing Louis’ thighs softly.

“Since you,” Louis says so quietly, Harry can barely hear him. Harry bends over the table, and over Louis so he can nuzzle into the boys’ neck and kiss there.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you, either,” Harry assures, dancing his fingertips up Louis’ sides, Louis finally starting to relax beneath him. “I get myself off every night, thinking of you and how beautiful you are and how good you are,” Harry adds on, Louis whining in the back of his throat.

“I used to pour my entire self into you every time you’d call me, asking me to come over, always saying it’d be the last time. I always hoped and knew it wouldn’t be the last time. I never want to have a last time with you,” Harry whispers, getting choked up as he squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a big breath through his nose to breathe Louis in.

Harry stays pressed up against Louis, taking his lubed-up fingers and reaching down to rub Louis’ hole with them. Louis jumps slightly beneath Harry’s touch, shuffling his legs farther apart and wrapping his arms around Harry tightly. When Harry pushes his first finger in, Louis gasps, and Harry kisses wetly along his jawline.

Harry pulls away, and Louis reluctantly releases his hold on him, and Harry drops to his knees between Louis’ legs. He sucks bruises into Louis’ milky thighs, missing the taste of his skin so much that he gets a bit carried away, Louis ending up scattered in marks as Harry slowly thrusts his single finger in and out of Louis’ tight hole.

When Harry’s done leaving his marks, he mouths at Louis’ hole, swirling his tongue around the rim and his finger. Louis lets out sweet sounds that Harry has missed, and he soaks them all in as he pokes his tongue in next to his index finger. Louis’ moaning breathily, Harry’s tongue swirling around inside of him, loving the taste of Louis so much.

Harry pulls his tongue out to add a second finger, Louis clenching around Harry instinctively. Harry keeps his hand still, rubbing Louis’ hickey covered thighs until he slowly relaxes, and that when Harry begins thrusting his fingers slowly and carefully. “You’re doing so well, baby,” Harry praises, curling his fingers and brushing against Louis’ prostate, the boy gasping. Harry doesn’t stay there for long, and instead goes back to his slow thrusts, scissoring his fingers to help open Louis up a bit more.

Louis hums out beautiful sounds, letting his eyes drift close while Harry nudges in a third finger, making sure the boy is nice and open. And in a few more slow minutes, Harry’s pulling his fingers out, and lubing up his hard cock.

            “Wanna bend over the desk for me, baby?” Harry asks, his voice raspy and soft at the same time. Louis pulls himself up with the help of Harry, turning around to face the desk and bending over the width of it. His left cheek resting on the cold wood and his ass displayed nicely in the air. He shuffles his feet apart slightly, improving the view for Harry. Harry runs his hand along Louis’ bum slowly, admiring him for a few moments.

            With a quick reassuring squeeze of Louis’ hand, he begins pushing in. Can’t believe it feels just as good as the first time. Louis’ soft gasp urges Harry to go deeper, which he does. He watches as Louis stretches beautifully around his dick, and the disgruntled moan Louis lets out when Harry bottoms out is music to his ears. Harry wastes no time in pulling out, only to snap his hips forward abruptly and slamming into Louis. Louis cries out, the noise echoing throughout the large, empty classroom. Louis’ hips get pushed deeper against the edge of the desk as Harry repeats the motion. Another echoing moan fills the room. Louis already feels tingly, his legs going weak, and Harry holds onto the boys’ hips. He lets out his own load groans, loving how tight and wonderful Louis feels around his dick.

Harry builds up a rhythm, purposely avoiding Louis’ prostate. Louis doesn’t mind. They both know he could come from only being fucked like this if Harry kept at it for a while. His moans of pleasure prove that. He lets go of Harry’s hand to reach both hands up to grip the edge of the desk, while his hips are being slammed into the opposite desk edge. It feels so good, getting roughed around a bit by Harry. It’s the best he’s ever felt since the last time he was with Harry, and all Louis can think is that he wants more. He doesn’t want this to ever stop, and he never wants to live life without Harry.

The breath gets knocked right out of Louis’ lungs when Harry’s hits his prostate, it’s sudden and quick. The second time Harry thrusts into it is when tears start to form and his moans transform into little sobs. When Harry slams into it for the third time, his knees start to shake and his legs go weak. Harry grips onto Louis’ hips to keep him from sliding off the desk, no longer supporting himself with his legs.

“Harry, Harry m’gonna come,” Louis whimpers and right as he says it Harry pulls out. Louis lets out a shocked gasp, propping himself up on his forearms to turn and look at Harry. Louis’ still trembling a bit, and he whines. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him up to standing. Harry gently turns Louis around, and guides him to lay on his back on the desk.

“I want to see your face when you come, want to see how you look when I wreck you,” Harry explains, spreading Louis’ legs wider than needed. He loves how flexible Louis is. Harry takes a few moments to admire Louis, legs wide, lips bright red, cheeks tear stained.

Harry wastes no more time in pushing his cock back inside Louis, bending over to rest his forearms on either side of Louis. Louis’ arms are bent like goal posts, and when Harry bends over Louis their hands align. Louis is quick to intertwine their fingers, closing his eyes and moaning with every thrust. Harry quickens his pace, Louis bouncing and his back rubbing against the sleek wood with every thrust. Harry drops his head so he can suck purple bruises onto Louis’ neck so everyone can see tomorrow at graduation. Once again, he’s purposely avoiding Louis’ prostate, but Louis’ thighs still begin to tremble. His moans grow louder and he mixes in little whimpers when Harry comes close to hitting his spot. “Please, please, please,” Louis begs, becoming desperate as he begins crying again, his body beginning to tremble underneath Harry.

Finally, Harry gives in and slams sharply up into Louis’ prostate and groaning when Louis sobs out. A fresh round of tears stream down his cheeks as Harry quite literally begins to pound into his prostate. He wanted to be soft and gentle with Louis, but he can’t. He can’t when they both need this so bad, and Harry’s sure that he’ll have plenty of time to make love to Louis sweetly sometime in the future.

He untangles his right hand from Louis’, reaching down to squeeze the base of Louis’ cock and using his hand to act as a cock ring. This leads to more sobs and trembles. The trembling has made its way up to Louis’ bottom lip. He flutters his eyes open, staring up at Harry. He doesn’t beg though; he doesn’t beg Harry to let him come. He takes it and lets this overwhelming pleasure wash over him. He feels as if he can barely breathe, but it feels so good. Harry leans down, sucking on Louis’ trembling lip and he hardens his movements. Louis’ poor, overstimulated prostate takes the harsh treatment. Louis’ hands shake rapidly in Harry’s, holding onto him tightly. “I can’t-“ Louis finally pleads, crying out.

When Harry’s comes up fills Louis up, he lets go of Louis’ cock and he almost immediately releases his own load across his chest. He lets out little sobs as he does, his chest heaving in the process as well. Harry immediately wraps him up in his arms, standing up and having Louis sit up with their chests together. Louis leans all of his body weight on Harry, still shaking.

“My baby, you did so well. I’m so proud of you, you made me feel so good,” Harry begins praising, even though he’s sure Louis can barely hear him right now. “You’re so beautiful,” Harry continues, keeping Louis’ firmly against his chest. Louis simply lets out a soft sound to acknowledge Harry’s sweet words.

Only when Louis’ shaking subsides does Harry soften his grip around Louis. Louis blinks slowly, looking up at Harry who’s smiling. His own legs feel like jello, but he’s more worried about Louis. Even though Louis’ fine, always, he needs to take care of him. Harry uses tissues from on the desk to start cleaning Louis up, and Louis watches. “How’re you feeling?” Harry asks, throwing the tissues into the bin.

“Good, really good,” Louis whispers, sitting on the desk as Harry collects their clothes. Louis has to stand when Harry begins dressing him, and then Harry dresses himself and they stand in silence for a bit, exchanging gentle touches occasionally.

“Let me walk you home,” Harry says eventually.

 

And Louis wonders if this is it, if this is all they’re ever going to be from now on, a one night stand every now and then. Louis would take it though, if this is the only way he’d get to see Harry, he’d still take it. Louis can’t see himself with anyone else, and he doesn’t want to. All he can think of is how stupid he was. He was so in love with Harry, and still is, he thought he had to let him go in order to make Harry happy. Harry does seem happier lately though, maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s okay if Louis isn’t happy, just for now hopefully, because Harry does seem okay. That’s why Louis broke up with Harry, so he wouldn’t end up even more hurt later.

Louis closes the door after they say their goodbyes, and he lets out a shaky breath before wandering off to bed. But, his breath hitches when he looks at the empty bed, turning around. His feet move without his brain’s permission, moving back towards the front door and swinging it open. Harry had just started to walk down the stairs, and he turns his head around to see Louis.

“Why are we torturing ourselves? Harry, I hate this. I hate this so much and I don’t want to do it anymore. Why can’t we be together now?” Louis pleads, and for the first time, he watches Harry break down in tears, hiding his face with his hands and the man leans against the wall for support.

Louis walks over, wrapping his arms around Harry, his Harry. He kisses away Harry’s tears like he’s done so many times for him, rubs his arms and whispers nice things. Harry has his lips pressed together, sniffling and trying to stop the tears from falling. Louis grabs him by the arm, pulling him inside and closing the door behind them. He’s never felt such guilt and heartbreak as he did in that moment, watching Harry cry in his arms. His crying doesn’t last for long, and composes himself as quickly as he can after some deep breaths.

“Take me to dinner,” Louis requests when they’re sat on the couch, only a few trickling tears left on Harry’s cheeks. “We can talk, get to know each other again. We can start over,” Louis suggests, but he’s more than less begging as he holds onto Harry’s strong hands.

“I don’t want to start over,” Harry states, and Louis’ heart physically twists in his chest. This is the true ending he had been waiting for-for months. Harry is finally going to cut him off. Louis holds his breath, waiting. “I want to pick up where we left off,” Harry eventually says, and Louis exhales, blinking a few times. “We can talk about it when I take you out to dinner,” Harry continues, and he squeezes the boys’ hands.

“I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you,” Louis mumbles, dropping his head against Harry’s chest, breathing in his smell and sighing.

“Then I’ll forgive you a million times to make up for it,” Harry replies, cupping Louis’ cheeks and lifting his face so they’re eye-to-eye. “What you did was the smart, and reasonable thing to do. You loved me so much you let me go, and I loved you so much that I couldn’t do it myself,” Harry says in a serious tone, brushing his thumbs against the soft skin of Louis’ cheeks, dipping down to kiss the boys’ nose.

            “Now, how about we go to bed so you can get some rest for your big day tomorrow?” Harry suggests. And Louis is happy to get cuddled up with Harry under the covers, his warm body wrapped around him and Louis drifts off with far less worries than he normally has.

 

.

 

“Louis Tomlinson,” The Dean announces into the mic, but Louis is already on his way with a huge grin on his face. The applause continues, even though it’s not entirely for him it sure feels like it is as he walks up those steps. His knees are shaking slightly as he shakes hands with all the important people that he never learned the names of. When he reaches the Dean, he grabs his diploma, shakes his hand and winks. He thinks of something snarky to say, but before he can, the Dean is announcing the next person. He walks across the rest of the stage, looking out to see his family standing and waving. But as he’s about to step off, a hand pulls him backstage, and he’s disappeared from the eyes of everyone.

            “You did it,” Harry says, grinning widely as Louis steps towards him. Of course, it was Harry, who else would it be?

            “Yeah,” Louis says breathily. “I couldn’t have done it without you though,” Louis says softly, Harry shaking his head and chuckling.  

            “You would have excelled even without me,” Harry insists, grabbing Louis’ hands and intertwining their fingers.

            “I still can’t believe we’re getting back together, I thought you’d never want me again,” Louis admits, letting out a shaky breath and Harry pulls him in to embrace.

            “Never, ever say that. It’s will always be you, Louis,” Harry says, and Louis can hear the pain in his voice as they hold onto each other. “This is our story, and it’s perfect. It was sad, very sad, but all of that led up to this and our future together,” Harry reassures, squeezing Louis.

 “Now, without further ado, the class of 2016 valedictorian!” The Dean declares, Louis looking in the direction of the stage, then back at Harry.

“Now, you’re going to go give an amazing speech, and I’ll be in the audience. Okay?” Harry says, pulling back to squeeze Louis’ arms, and Louis nods quickly. Harry pecks the boys’ lips, heading towards the back entrance to not draw attention to himself, and Louis steps out on stage.

Louis steps up to the podium, scanning the crowd until he sees Harry standing in the aisle, just behind the student section and in front of the teacher’s section. Photographers surround him, all trying to document this event. Louis takes in a deep breath, and smiles.

“I found love while at college. Maybe some of you did too, or maybe you fell in love with learning or something like that,” Louis starts, taking in a deep breath. “Either way, I hope we all move on to find good careers. I mean, we are graduating from the most prestige college, so if you don’t get a job you picked the wrong major.” People laugh, some of it a bit nervous. Louis can’t help but smile. “The past four years were the best and worst at the same time. None of that really matters now, because I have everything I need now. I have love, and I have my whole future ahead of me.” Louis pauses, and he finds Harry again, and looks directly at him for the next part. “Anyway,” Louis pauses to take a slow breath, “if you fall in love now, or later, or never… it’s all fine. But I hope you all get to experience it at some point. It’s a beautiful thing, even at its worst. It gives you hope and plans for the future. Love is love and love is a very beautiful thing.” Louis takes a pause, Harry smiling at him from the crowd. “In the end, I’m happy with my choices, and I hope you’re happy with yours.” There may be a few tears in Louis’ eyes, but he’ll deny it if anyone asks. Everyone erupts in cheers, which surprises Louis since everyone is supposed to hate him, but Louis ignores them and is quick to walk off the stage.

He makes his way down his aisle in the direction of his chair, people are patting him on the back as he passes. He pauses when he sees Harry approaching down the aisle. Louis hesitates, stuttering his movements when he gets to his row. He keeps walking though, towards Harry. His walk turns into a jog, and then a full sprint towards Harry. When they meet, Harry picks him up and spins him around in the air before hugging him to his chest and kissing Louis and pouring every ounce of love in his body into it. People are staring, of course, but they don’t take notice. Harry sets Louis down carefully, caressing his cheeks delicately.

“I’m more than happy with my choices, Louis.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this!


End file.
